Risico
by Hellie Ace
Summary: Discontinued and being redone at a later date. Please see final chapter for more details.
1. The Proposal

**Chapter 1: The Proposal**

**Risico**

**Chapter 1: The Proposal**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek! :)**

**A/N: Wooohooo! Secret agents for the win! :D For those who read American Trains, yep, I actually did plan on doing this and chose secret agents over pirates. I really hope ya guys like it! It's got me pretty excited! :D**

**What should happen when the CIA and SIS(MI6) agree to pair up two of their agents on a test run for a new international cooperation attempt to snuff out some nasty criminal organization? And if those two agents happen to be Alfred f. Jones, one of CIA's most valued assets and top shots and Arthur Kirkland, the SIS's youngest, most successful agent to bust an international crime ring, what then? When the simple trial case spins out of control, how will these two cope with their own differences and hidden secrets and more importantly, how will they catch the bad guys?**

**Also for those familiar with American Trains and how I try to write... This fic could end up being inaccurate. Really, this will be more Hollywood because obviously with these agencies there is never complete information readily available to civilians. Really, what kind of agencies would they be if there was? I can only go based on what Hollywood and what very few reports are available. Sorry! If it's any comfort, you probably won't be able to tell unless you've clearance above the rest of us mere mortals! Lol**

**Lame summary is lame. However, I hope you enjoy the 1st chapter and hopefully more to come! :D**

As the watery afternoon sunlight filtered in through the tinted windows of the MI6 building, Arthur Kirkland, ranking officer in the Secret Intelligence Service of the UK, sat at his desk, shuffling through report papers. He looked them over with a bored expression while twirling one of his many pens in his hand.

The day had been long, drab and all around boring. He'd spent the majority of it holed up in his office going through these report papers and various others scattered hazardously in marked folders around the room. Some lay on the floor, some on his desk, others stacked on his computer monitor.

With an exasperated sigh he tucked the papers back into the open folder and shoved it away, causing a stack of others to come tumbling down in an explosive shower of papers fluttering about the room.

"Bloody fucking Hell!" The man swore and rose from his chair. He walked around the outside of his desk and knelt to pick up his mess when a knock sounded on his office door. He didn't bother to look before calling out:

"Enter!" He started to shuffle the topmost papers into the first folder, only glancing at the door once he'd gotten the first folder in order.

"Afternoon, Mr. Kirkland," said the dark-skinned woman who had just entered. She shut the door quietly behind her.

"Yes, same to you, Mrs. Wister," Arthur huffed in return, once more trying to collect the scattered papers.

"You seem upset, Mr. Kirkland. Having a poor a day, I see?" She said with a chuckle and moved to lean against Arthur's desk.

"You could say that," he returned, and set one of the overstuffed folders back on his desk, which knocked over the container of pens at the edge, scattering the writing utensils on the floor. They went rolling across the short gray carpet.

"Fuck!" Arthur exclaimed and leered at the pens.

"Temper, temper, Arthur," the woman, called Mrs. Wister, said with an amused giggle.

The blond sat back, leaning against the base of his desk and sighed. He'd pick it all up later.

"Now I know you didn't come in here just to watch me fight my office supplies."

"You're absolutely right. I have some very interesting news."

"I'm sure I'll hear about it in another batch of these blasted reports!" The man growled and kicked one of the spilled folders near his leg.

"Well, I figured you'd like to hear it without the threat of paper cuts and frustration, but if you're going to sit down there and sulk, I can-"

"No! I mean, no, please, do go on, Mrs. Wister," Arthur responded and looked up at the dark-skinned woman with his curious toxic green gaze.

She smiled, flashing her pearly white teeth in triumph.

"That's what I thought, Mr. Kirkland." She settled a ruffle in her knee-length black skirt and continued.

"You recall that meeting we had with the CIA a few months ago?"

"I do."

"And the proposal?"

"Yes. Get on with it!" Arthur ordered, starting to collect the pens in his lap.

"Well, it was finalized and has been executed."

"Wonderful, but what's got to do with you personally informing me?" Arthur asked in suspicion. Something was off, as Mrs. Wister was grinning mischievously. She pulled a dark blue folder from under her arm and handed it to Arthur.

"Congratulations, Mr. Kirkland. You've been delegated to handle the proposal."

"WHAT!" Arthur roared and scrambled to his feet. He slammed the folder down and opened it, furiously flipping through the pages detailing the official proposal, planned meetings, ideas and details. He stopped when he came to a very specific page.

"You've got to be-" He looked up to Mrs. Wister, who was smirking at him.

"The higher-ups knew you wouldn't be pleased about this, and so that is why I was delegated to gently break the news to you."

The blond scoffed.

"You call this gently?"

"I could have left it on your desk while you were out to lunch and you probably wouldn't have found it until it was too late."

"You are a cruel woman, Mrs. Wister."

"I'm just the messenger, Arthur. If you want to take this with the higher-ups, then Evie is in her office," Mrs. Wister said with a smile and patted the blond man's shoulder.

He watched her leave and hung his head to stare down at the open blue folder. He glared at it before shrugging his shoulders, shutting the folder, tucking it under his arm and exiting his office.

Oh yes, he'd take this up with higher-ups. He'd let them know just how much he didn't like this and he'd tell them just where to shove this proposal!

He walked out on to the floor, passing Mrs. Wister's secretary desk outside his office, then through the maze of cubicles until he reached the closed door of his and this floor's supervisor. The wooden door with its glass panel read the name of its owner, Evie Ashdown.

He drew in a settling breath, squared his shoulders and did his best to look like the professional his boss expected. He knocked and a stern, shrill voice answer.

"You may enter!"

Arthur did so and shut the door quietly behind. He looked up to meet the piercing, gray-blue eyes of his middle aged, well-endowed boss. She smiled at him, though it reminded Arthur more of a wolf's smile than that of small-statured older woman.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Kirkland?" She inquired, folding her hands in her lap.

The blond scoffed before tossing the blue folder down on Evie's desk.

"For starters, you can take that and burn it," he sneered. The older woman sighed.

"I had a feeling that's what your unannounced visit would be about. I take it you are unhappy?"

"Oh yes. I'm livid, Evie! This is nothing but a dodgy attempt to pawn off responsibility on to me!"

"Agent Kirkland, might I remind you that we are still under hours of operation in this fine building. As such, you will address me properly."

The man groaned.

"Very well, Mrs. Ashdown."

"Excellent. Now then, just what do you think I can do about this?" She inquired, tossing her short salt and pepper hair and fingering the edge of the folder.

"I told you; burn it."

"You know I can't do that, Agent Kirkland. Any other brilliant suggestions?"

"Give it to someone else. I don't want anything to do with it," Arthur growled back and turned to leave.

"Wait a moment," Evie said and pulled the folder closer, flipping it open. She quietly skimmed through the pages.

"Just what do you not find suitable about the assignment?" She inquired, not bothering to look up.

"Everything," he said and set his hand on the door handle.

"Arthur-"

"I thought we were under hours of operation?" He retorted spitefully. Evie narrowed her eyes and turned another page.

"I believe I've found the issue."

"You've been flipping through it this whole time."

Evie smiled around a bit soft laughter. She flipped the folder to face Arthur and tapped the very page that Arthur had been glaring at in his office.

"We've gone over this, Mr. Kirkland," she said, and her voice turned low and serious. "Every time it's the same issue."

"Perhaps it's because I never started liking my issues."

"You're going to have to move on, Arthur."

"Bugger off, _Evie_," he sneered back.

"Are you just not a personable fellow?" Evie asked and looked up to meet Arthur's green eyes.

"No."

"Then what is it? You're refusing a perfect mission to boost your career but you'll do it because of this?" She said, tapping the open page. Arthur scowled down at the offending information.

"That's precisely it."

"Why does this happen every time I try to assign you a partner?"

"Because you assign me fucking gits!"

"Language, Agent Kirkland."

"I don't give a damn!"

Evie sighed.

"Arthur. Let me be frank. We've sealed this deal with the CIA. We can't back out now. In fact, he's already on a plane over the pond. He'll be arriving in-" Evie glanced at the time on her computer monitor "-approximately two hours. You'll be picking him up at Heathrow. The terminal and pick-up information are clipped in the folder, but I doubt you looked at them."

Arthur white knuckled the door handle in a vice grip.

"I said I'm not doing it."

"Please don't make me pull rank on you, Mr. Kirkland. You will take this assignment, and that's final," Evie said sternly and Arthur sighed.

"You'll owe me for this, Evie. I can't believe you'd do this, and to me of all people."

"I know you don't like having a partner; however, this one might be different, Arthur. I think he'll be better than the others," she said with a smile.

The blond turned and picked up the folder.

"He's some bloody American CIA prick. I doubt it, Mrs. Ashdown," Arthur retorted solemnly and exited the office. He returned to his own, glaring at Mrs. Wister as he passed. She in turn smiled in good nature to the man.

He locked the office door behind him and sat down at his messy desk. Opening the folder again, he flipped back to that page and read aloud from his new partner's biography file.

"Alfred F. Jones, CIA senior special agent. Date of birth: July 4th, 1983. Age twenty-eight, no immediate other." The blond man sighed and slumped down on his desk. He absolutely dreaded their upcoming meeting in less than two measly hours.

**Props to whoever recognized the tile, by the way! It is actually one of the short stories published by Ian Fleming, who is the author of the novels the James Bond films are based on. I just liked the name, the plot of _Risico_ really has nothing to do with this story.**

**Anywho~**


	2. Terminals

**Risico**

**Chapter 2: Terminals**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek! :)**

**Haha, yes Kay, I am a little crazy. ;)**

**All the folks reading American Trains, glad you found this! I'll post the next chapter tomorrow (Thursday), I forgot to proof it and I have to get to work.**

**Without further delay, I give you chapter 2!**

When Arthur couldn't delay the upcoming pick up any longer, he groaned and rose from his chair. He removed the gray tweed coat from the chair back and pulled it on over the black suit he'd worn. Even though it was only late October, the cold had come in unseasonably early and with the heat of the day passing, he knew the air would end up being rather chill.

He turned off the computer monitor, collected the blue assignment folder and checked to make sure the keys to his Vauxhall Astra Mark 5 were still tucked in his pocket and moved to leave his office.

He key locked the office door behind him and leaned on the overpass of Mrs. Wister's desk and drummed his fingers on the counter to catch her attention.

"Going out, Mr. Kirkland?" She grinned at him as he scowled down at her. "Give the American a warm welcome, won't you?" She said and picked up the phone at her desk. "I'll be sure to tell Evie."

"Thanks." He groaned and unhitched himself from the desk. Walking to the elevator door, Arthur was forced to wait for it to reach the floor and he shifted his weight in impatience. He wanted to get this over with. He'd pick up the American, drop him off at the hotel he assumed the CIA would be paying for, come back to work and figure out a way to get this case out of his hands.

Finally, the elevator reached his current floor and doors slid open. The blond stepped inside and pressed the button for the ground floor. The short trip down seemed like a miserable eternity for Arthur, as his mind raced through just what the CIA agent would be like. He scoffed.

_Probably some pompous arse, with an ego that's going to piss me off. Maybe if I kick his ass, the higher-ups will take me off the case?_

The man grinned at the idea; he wouldn't mind getting a slap on the wrist if it meant getting out of this. Even a little probation time for assault wouldn't be too bad.

When the doors slid open, Arthur stepped out, nodded politely to the guard at the front desk and left the building. He strolled out until he found his shiny black car, unlocked it and slid into the driver's seat.

The blonde drove in silence, not bothering with the radio as he navigated multiple bridges, narrow roads and traffic.

"They couldn't have picked a closer place?" He groaned aloud as the drive began to tick past the forty-minute mark.

Finally the signs for the airport came into view and he followed them all the way to the terminal parking zones and found a place he could stop the Astra.

He killed the ignition and exited the vehicle with the pick up information. He locked it before tucking the keys and his hands in his tweed coat pockets and heading into the airport building.

Once inside he pulled out the slip of paper with the information and started looking for the correct terminal. He wandered the crowded airport for a good fifteen minutes before actually locating the terminal.

Arthur halted at the terminal alcove and looked around. Most of the seats were filled with people doing various things. Reading, using their laptops, listening to music, playing on their phones but none of them stood out to Arthur.

_Well what did you expect? The American to waltz up to you and announce himself as CIA?_

He thought back to the biography picture that had been in the file. The CIA agent had blond hair, blue eyes and wore glasses. He couldn't be that hard to find, could he?

Arthur scanned the rows of seats again until he spotted someone matching the description, but surely that couldn't be the agent!

The man Arthur locked on to was slouched forward in his seat with a dark brown hoodie lined in fake black wool with the number fifty branded hugely on the back. A set of ipod headphones were set in his ears and music player was tucked in the front pouch of the hoodie. The man was currently occupied with rapidly texting on the touch screen of his phone with a bored expression etched in his youthful face.

There was no way this was CIA's top shot and most valued asset, as described in his assignment folder. The man didn't even remotely put out the air of a trained and deadly spy! He was more the typical bored youth straight out of college.

With a sigh, Arthur resigned himself. If he didn't ask, he'd never know. With any luck, it wouldn't be the man he was looking for and maybe the SIS agent would have a second chance at locating a more promising looking person.

The other blonde was sitting in the row of seats that had their backs turned to Arthur and he walked up to the back of them.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you Alfred Jones?"

The man didn't answer, and just kept texting.

"Sir?"

Still nothing, and the Brit scowled. He reached his hand down and plucked the headphones out with a rough yank on the cord.

"Hey! What the Hell?" The blue-eyed man whipped around and glared death at Arthur from behind his lenses.

"Are you Alfred Jones?"

"That depends. Who's asking?" The sitting man snarled back, clearly pissed at having the headphones ripped from his ears.

"Arthur Kirkland." Said man retorted, matching the American's glare.

Alfred furrowed his brows in thought before realization dawned on him and his scowl turned up in a grin. So this was his new British partner, huh? He got to his feet and tucked his phone in his pocket. He extended out his hand over the seat to Arthur.

"Nice to meet you, agent Kirkland!" He said and expectantly waited for Arthur to shake his hand. The Brit glanced down at the offered greeting and swatted the taller's hand away.

"Yes, nice to meet you and all that bullocks. Now come with me." Arthur ordered and turned on his heel.

Alfred stood dumbfounded and rooted in place. What the Hell had he done to deserve that? The American furrowed his brows and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"You're an ass." Alfred declared in defiance. The Brit grit his teeth and glanced back at the CIA agent. The two glared at each other before the much friendlier American caved.

"Alright, sorry. That was out of line. Can we start over?" He offered his hand out again and grinned. He wasn't waiting for the Brit's response though.

"Hi, agent Kirkland. I'm agent Jones and it's nice to meet you."

The green-eyed agent internally gave in and shook the man's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Jones." Arthur grumbled in return.

"See, that wasn't so tough!" Alfred chimed and started to collect his luggage, which consisted of a black duffel bag and large rolling suitcase. He slung the bag over his shoulder and extended the handle to drag the suitcase around the chairs and up to Arthur's side.

"Are you quite finished now?" Arthur inquired rhetorically and started walking to the airport exit. Alfred sighed but followed after. So much for having a decent partner if this was just how their meeting had started.

Despite Arthur's efforts to walk ahead of the American, the blue-eyed man seemed to have other ideas, not to mention longer legs. He strutted by Arthur's side, bumping the Brit's shoulder constantly as he walked and tried to check his phone at the same time.

Arthur scowled sidelong at Alfred, but the American either didn't care or didn't notice as he continued smiling and messing around on his phone. As they approached the black Astra, the blue-eyed agent looked up and grinned wider.

"Nice ride!" He said and waited until Arthur had fished the keys from his pocket and unlocked the vehicle. The American tossed his luggage into the hatchback and moved to open the right-side front door.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Arthur snarled out.

"Huh?" Alfred glanced up at Arthur then back to the seat and noted that the steering wheel was on his current side. He burst out laughing and walked back around to the other side. Arthur watched him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Sorry, I forgot you guys drive on the wrong side of the road here!" He said and opened the passenger side.

The Brit scowled darker at this.

"It's the correct side of the road. It's your country who's backwards." The SIS man responded and slid into the driver's side, shut the door and started the car.

"Whatever." The American dismissed with a shrug and pulled out his phone again as Arthur backed out of the parking spot.

"Who are you insistently texting, twit?" Arthur asked and pulled out on to the main road.

"First off, I'm not a 'twit,' whatever that is. Second, I'm texting my old partner stateside. He just wanted to make sure MI6 didn't bail on me and leave me stranded at the airport." Alfred responded, never looking up from the brightly lit screen.

_I__sort__of__wish__I__did._Arthur thought and set his attention back to the road.

"We prefer SIS."

The American shrugged.

"Same thing."

They drove in relative quiet after that, other than Alfred's absent shifting and settling in the seat and he finally put the phone away.

As they passed a small red car Alfred glanced at it and grinned when he caught sight of the gorgeous driver.

"She's hot." He muttered and Arthur looked at the American with a sneer.

"Keep it in your pants, chap." He said in an overly exaggerated disgusted tone.

"Wow, someone's got a stick up their ass." Alfred teased with a grin. "I bet you're just jealous I didn't say that to you."

The SIS agent sputtered. This was going to be a long second half of their drive if the American thought he'd get away with that.

"You're a pig, and I'm certainly _not_ jealous." The Brit growled back. Alfred laughed raucously and went back to looking out the window.

"Don't be like that. You're actually not too bad, but your attitude sucks." He casually winked at the Brit who caught the gesture out of the corner of his eye. He felt his cheeks begin to heat.

"I thought you said _she_ was hot." Arthur pointed out, inferring Alfred's sexuality.

The American shrugged.

"I'm not particular."

"So you're bisexual?"

"Sure. However you want to put it."

They lapsed into silence again and remained that way for the majority of the drive. Finally Alfred piped up on his thoughts.

"So what about you? Got a wife?"

"No, and didn't you read my file? You could have answered that yourself."

"I read it. Doesn't mean I remember anything from it though. So, got a girlfriend then?"

"No."

"Sex buddy?"

"What? No!" Arthur exclaimed and glared at Alfred, who laughed.

"Relax, I'm kidding! Do you even have friends?"

"Of course I do!"

"Thanks goodness! I was starting to think you were some lonely old man." The CIA agent teased.

"I'm not old!"

"You're older than me. That much I remember from your file."

Before Arthur could respond, Alfred gasped and practically plastered himself to the window as the SIS building came into view.

"Damn, you guys have an awesome HQ!" He exclaimed and Arthur smirked smugly. "I wish Langley looked like that!"

While the CIA Virginia headquarters was a brilliant new building with dazzling marble blue pillars and an impressive set of arches, the SIS building's strange shape and ziggurat like appearance made for an impressive sight.

Arthur parked the Astra and exited the vehicle.

"Leave your luggage. We won't be here very long. I just have to report back to my boss and show you off around the office to prove I didn't ditch you on the street or anything."

Alfred shut the car door and followed the shorter as they started to walk to the building.

"You'd do that?" He inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

_I'd like to._

"No." Arthur dismissed that subject and brought up a new one.

"What hotel has the CIA booked you at?"

"Hotel? They told me I'd be staying at the home of my new partner."

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks and felt his stomach sink.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"No, I mean it. That's what they told me at briefing this morning." Alfred tilted his head. "Is that going to be an issue?"

_Damn__right__it__is!__I'm__going__to__give__Evie__a__piece__of__my__mind__for__this!_ The Brit thought and entered the building with the confused American trailing him.

**Bi!Alfred is gonna be fun! Haha CIA!Alfred is such a huge transition from my super shy American Trains Cowboy!Alfred. If you haven't you should totally go read it. *shot for shameless self promotion***

**You guys should Google the CIA Langley building and the London SIS building too! Both are awesome looking pieces of architectural wonders! :D**


	3. Olive Branch Booze

**Risico**

**Chapter 3: Olive Branch Booze**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek! :)**

**A/N: :D Chapter 3 baby! I had a really long, crazy dream about this fanfiction and I think I just set the entire thing up for awesome! I should fall asleep watching _Burn__Notice_(go watch it, it's awesome!) more often. ;)**

**Reviews:**

**Kay: Lol, you're not lazy! I'm just overly enthusiastic and actually love to write this stuff. No joke, I look forward to it every day. :) Also I've watched a few episodes, just never got into it (I just have so many other shows im trying to keep up with). I might have to though, I really like cars. ;) It seems as if our brainwaves are intermingling again, even in a totally different fic! XD**

**Unruly: I'm glad you found it then! And thanks! :D**

**Inkaugneato: Ugh, my mom does it to me all the time. It drives me up the friggin' wall! .**

**Now then, on to the show and hope you enjoy!**

Arthur walked straight to guard at the front desk. The man looked up at Arthur as the blond leaned against the desk. He was very familiar with the man, they usually talked each morning when Arthur came in.

"So I'm sure you've been informed of our-" Arthur cocked a thick brow as the American caught up to him and gave him a curious look. "Our guest, am I right, mate?"

"Yes, agent Kirkland, I have." The guard leaned forward to punch in a few things on his computer and a machine beside it. He glanced up at Alfred.

"It's 'Jones,' right?"

"Yeah."

The guard went back to his screen, clicked a few things before he rose from his seat.

"Stay put. I'll be right back." He said and walked out from behind the desk into a small alcove room, from where he could still see the desk, but made it rather hard to look into.

"That's Scott, if all goes well, you'll see him often." Arthur said and examined a thin scratch in the granite top of the guard's desk.

"Why's that?"

"It means we're still in the building, rather than dirtying our hands in the field."

"Right." The American sighed and watched the guard return. The man sat back and patted the top of the desk.

"Hand it over Jones. I.D., papers, CIA badge, everything."

"What?" The taller blond exclaimed. He growled and fished into his pockets when the guard gave him a look that dared him to question further and suffer for it. He unclipped the badge, pulled out multiple I.D.s from his wallet and various other articles and stacked them on the guard's desk.

"And your gun, Jones." Scott ordered and tapped the desk again.

Alfred chuckled and slipped his hand under his hoodie. He pulled his Walter PPK/E from the shoulder holster and dropped the loaded clip from the gun. He flashed the side to show the safety was on and set both the gun and full magazine clip down on the desk.

"How'd you know?"

"It's my job to know, Jones." Scott responded and pulled all the items down to his level and turned back to his computer while Arthur impatiently tapped his foot.

"How did you get that past airport security?" The shorter blond wondered aloud.

"CIA shipped it with my luggage, or so that's the story I'm supposed to tell if anyone asks." Alfred responded and Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"And when did you manage to get it on your person? You were with me this whole time."

"You should pay more attention, agent Kirkland. It just might save your life." The American responded with a wink. Arthur scoffed, and leaned farther against the desk.

"C'mon, Scott, could you be any bloody slower?'

"Bugger off, Kirkland. You can't blame me if the system is slow." The guard responded and skimmed his fingers through his short, dark hair. The man sighed and rose from his seat again. He set the various papers and badge on the granite top and slid them back to Alfred.

"You'll have to leave your weapon with me each time you come in and you can collect it anytime you leave the building. I'll be sure to inform night shift of this so they shouldn't give you any trouble either." Scott walked back to the alcove.

Alfred collected his various I.D.s and tucked them back in his wallet. He clipped the badge back to belt and tugged the hoodie back over it. The other papers he stuffed into the front pouch.

"I can't believe you guys won't let me carry my gun." He grumbled more to himself then to Arthur, or anyone for that matter.

"You won't need it, this isn't a field mission. Why do you even carry one?"

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked as he set his elbow on the desk and rested his cheek in his open palm.

"CIA isn't a combat organization. Having to use a weapon means you failed your objective." Arthur responded.

"Yeah, well, sometimes I like to survive, y'know?" The taller blond laughed raucously. "Even if I do fail the mission, I'd like to get out alive anyway. If that means I have to put a few bullets into some crooks to save my skin, then I'm okay with that."

Arthur nodded; it was a reasonable enough explanation.

"Anyway, what are you packing?"

"How do you know I'm carrying anything?"

Alfred leaned forward and patted Arthur's hip where the tweed coat covered the bulk of the gun set in its holster. Arthur swatted the American's hand away and Alfred laughed softly.

"Your coat doesn't hide it very well from someone who knows what to look for."

Scott returned then and handed the CIA agent a laminated badge with an attached clip.

"Keep this with you at all times when you're here. Show that to anyone if they ask for clearance since your CIA badge won't get you anywhere in here." The guard said and sat down at his desk once more. "Oh, and he carries a P99, standard issue."

"Were you eavesdropping?"

Scott chuckled.

"No, you're just very loud."

"Gee, thanks." Alfred mumbled as he clipped the new badge on his belt beside his apparently useless CIA insignia.

"May we go now, Scott? Important agent business and all." Arthur inquired and unhitched himself from the granite desk.

"Go on," Scott glanced at the time on his computer monitor. "I'll be seeing you again soon, anyways."

"What's the time?"

"6:53pm"

"Thank you, mate." Arthur dismissed and Scott merely nodded. The two agents walked to the elevator and the shorter pressed the button to bring the elevator car down to their level. While they waited, Arthur decided to give his American companion the gist of the floor plan.

"My floor is floor six. If you become lost, just ask anyone. I'm locally famous, they'll know my floor."

"I'm pretty sure I can remember floor six. Hey, I've got a question though." The American interjected and Arthur leered at him for interrupting.

"What?"

"I figured this place would be crawling with security. So why is there only one guard?"

"There's plenty of security. You just can't see it, and that's how we like it."

Alfred started looking around for cameras, but didn't get much of a chance as the elevator _ping_ed and the doors slid open. Seeing it was empty, Arthur waltzed in with the CIA agent at his side. He pressed the sixth floor button and moved to lean back against the cold, metal railing.

"Anyway, the only floors you'll need to be on are the lobby floor and sixth floor. If you need to go anywhere else, which might be one of our auditoriums if at all, then you'll be escorted by myself or another agent."

"Lame. I was hoping to actually get to see the building."

"I didn't say you couldn't, just not alone."

"So you're just my personal MI6 babysitter?"

"I am no such thing!" Arthur growled in return. He rubbed his arm when the American playfully punched his shoulder.

"Lighten up, agent Kirkland, I was just kidding."

The Brit sneered, but didn't respond as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open to reveal the familiar sixth floor. He stepped out first and the two made their way to the back wall where Arthur's desk was located.

A few of the people seated at the many rows of desks and cubicles looked up to see the anticipated CIA agent. If Alfred hadn't been used to unwanted attention, he would have squirmed under the curious stares. A few of them were quick to look back down to their various assignments, other continued to watch as the two blond agents proceeded to Arthur's office.

Said agent paused at Mrs. Wister's desk. The dark woman had the desk phone cradled between her shoulder and ear and was furious scribbling something down. When she'd finished writing down whoever on the other end of line had told her she thanked them and hung up.

Her eyes lit up and a brilliant smile played on her lips as she caught sight of Alfred. The woman extender her hand over the desk and the CIA agent shook it, mirroring her grin.

"Well, aren't you an adorable bloke!" She chimed and patted Alfred's hand.

"I'm Zara Wister, the primary secretary for the 6th floor agents. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, ma'am. Name's Alfred F. Jones, but Al works too." The American grinned when Mrs. Wister enthusiastically smiled wider and glanced at Arthur smugly. The Brit scoffed and glared death at his secretary.

"Don't flatter his ego, Mrs. Wister."

The secretary waved him off and Arthur unlocked his office and ushered the taller blond inside. The CIA agent jammed his hands in his pockets as he walked around the perimeter of the office and started to examine the shelves.

"Just don't touch anything, American"

Alfred scoffed and looked over his shoulder to Arthur, who had taken his seat behind his desk.

"Relax, I won't break anything." He retorted and went back to examining the various books and articles scattered on the shelves. He walked the room until he came to stand behind Arthur.

Looking over the top of him, Alfred could watch the Brit shuffle through various papers and start to file them away in the drawers of his desk. The American set his hands on the high back of the SIS agent's chair and merely watched over him.

He hadn't noticed before, but a pleasant, musky scent wafted from the shorter. The American smiled inwardly. He rather liked the scent.

"Any reason you've chosen to stand this bloody close to me?" Arthur interrupted his thoughts, not bothering to look up from his paper work.

"Are you wearing cologne?" The CIA agent redirected and Arthur glanced back at him. The emerald-eyed agent was a bit stunned by the sudden question.

"A bit. Why?" He inquired, cocking a heavy eyebrow.

"No reason really. I just thought it smelled nice." Alfred shrugged his shoulders and looked at the time on Arthur's computer monitor blankly. While it was only 7 in the evening, Alfred was starting to feel the effects of jetlag setting in and he suppressed a yawn.

"Shame, since it wasn't meant to attract you." Arthur spit back, shaking his head and tucking away another folder.

"Why not?" Alfred purred, then bloomed into laughter at the Brit's immediate blush.

"I've only known you for approximately an hour and a half, agent Jones. Just because you think you're a stud, doesn't mean you are."

The CIA agent faked emotional hurt and gasped. He dramatically clutched at his hoodie over his heart.

"Way to crush me like that, agent Kirkland!"

"You're ego is more than even yourself can handle. Knocking it down a peg or two wouldn't be a bad thing."

"You've only known me for less than two hours, how do you know the size of my ego? I could be a humble guy, y'know."

Arthur snorted in amusement.

"You? Humble? Doubtful."

"True." The American admitted and shrugged. "So who are you trying to attract then? Zara out there? Isn't she a bit too old for you?"

Arthur sputtered and glared death at Alfred through his toxic green eyes.

"Most certainly not! I'm a professional, agent Jones, I'm not going to date _any_ of my co-workers."

"Am I a co-worker?"

"What? No! I mean, temporarily I suppose." Arthur grumbled in return and then suddenly his eyes went wide as he caught Alfred's meaning. The American was just a bit too friendly.

"What the Hell is wrong with you, Jones? I hardly know you and you're already hitting on me!"

"I'm not hitting on you! I was just asking!" Alfred defended with a cocky smile. "I don't hit on straight guys anyway."

"Whoever said I was straight?" Arthur instantly regretted blurting out the statement and he bit his lip as the American's eyes went wide and his grin wider. Only a select few people knew about the SIS agent's sexual preference, and he hadn't wanted that group to include the cheeky American lingering behind him.

_Damn it! What have I done?_

"So…" Alfred drawled and walked around to the front of Arthur's desk and perched himself on the edge of it. He looked down into Arthur's green orbs smugly. "What's your type?"

"Not you, now fuck off so I can get my filing done."

"And just what is my type? C'mon, Arthur. You don't know me yet." Alfred said and removed his glasses to clean the lenses with the worn edge of his hoodie.

"I don't want to know you. I want to get this filing done so we can start going over this blasted trial case." Arthur practically spat venom at the American perched on his desk.

"Well what if I want to know you?"

"I don't care what you bloody want!"

Alfred frowned, this whole thing just wasn't going as planned. He set his glasses back on his nose and sighed.

"What would you say to going out for drinks after you finish filing? We can start the case tomorrow morning after nursing some sweet hangovers." Alfred tried. He couldn't believe he was already having to pull out the alcohol card, and just to get the Brit _not_ to hate him.

"No." Arthur said firmly and tucked yet another folder away. He reached for one beside the American's leg. Alfred pushed his hand down on the folder and the shorter tugged at it with a furious scowl at the CIA operative.

"Tell you what. Let's just go find a bar, relax, have a couple drinks and forget all about this mission crap until tomorrow. All drinks on me."

Arthur perked up. Had the American really just offered to pay for both of them to drink? Obviously he was unfamiliar with the Brit's ability to thoroughly drink anyone under the table. When he thought about it, how could he pass up a chance to get some more time to think about how to pass off this mission and free drinks? Even if it was with the rather forward American.

"Alright, Jones. You've got a deal. Tomorrow though, it's all business. I want to get this mission over with as fast as possible." _Or__pass__it__off__to__some__other__poor__sap._

"Ditto. I want to get back stateside as soon as I can." Alfred grinned and released the folder so the SIS agent could finish his filing.

**Fun facts for the story, since I really can't write any ridiculously long history notes anymore for this fic!**

**The gun Alfred is carrying is James Bond's handgun of choice. He usually carries one in every film. ;) The CIA actually doesn't have a standard issue handgun as it really isn't a combative organization. It's intelligence, and a good spy shouldn't need to have to pull his personal gun if he's doing the mission right. However, operatives aren't limited to what the personally carry around or go into the field with if they choose.**

**The p99 is actually MI6's (SIS's) standard issue in case you were wondering. See, still some fact in here!**

**Also, the floor plan layout for the SIS building isn't exactly available. I have no idea what's really on the 6th floor. Lol**

**Reviewssssssssss~, I hunger for them! :3 Veeee~!**


	4. Blame It On The Alcohol

**Risico**

**Chapter 4: Blame it on the Alcohol.**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek! :)**

**A/N: *giggles* I probably should have updated American Trains first, but I really, really,_really_ wanted to write this and post it. :D I'll try to get American Trains updated tomorrow (Sunday).**

**I'm proud to bring you some sexy stuff and some excellent choice of alcohol use by our agents. ;)**

**On to Reviews!**

**Trumpet-geek: Yes, yes it is. ;)**

**Ninja-Ris: You know, what would actually be an awesome idea! I could totally see Alfred being the perfect Neal. But just who would make a good Moz? Still and interesting idea. ;)**

***is honored at the mention of Prussia awesome* :DDD**

**Alguien22792: Don't you mean a sexy combinations? Teehee**

**9mm Meg: Originally Arthur was to have the PPK and I was going to give Alfred a custom .50 desert eagle Mark XIX before I went with something much lighter and easier to carry. As beautiful as those guns are, the PPK is much easier to conceal and more conventional. ;) That and I decided to check if MI6 had standard issues, and they did. So that settled who got the PPK. ;)**

**TwistedRoses132: Yeah, that building is lovely! Actually yes I do. For actual acting, my favorite bond is Sean Connery. For looks, Daniel Craig. Movie wise I'm tied at the_The__Spy__Who__Loved__Me_ and _From__Russia__With__Love._Yourself?**

As Arthur tucked away the last file, Alfred discontinued gnawing on the end of one of the many pens that the Brit kept on his desk from sheer boredom. The Brit vaguely wondered if he should have informed the American agent about the lack of carpet cleaning that occurred in his office when Alfred had picked up all the pens that had still been scattered on the floor and started chewing on one.

"Keep it. I don't want it anymore." Arthur said as Alfred went to return the chewed pen to the container.

"Sorry." The blue-eyed agent gave an apologetic grin and tossed the chewed writing instrument into the trash pail by the door.

The Englishman merely grunted his response and set to locking the various desk drawers and shutting down his computer for the night. With that done, he rose and readjusted his gray coat. Satisfied with that Arthur ushered Alfred out the door and locked his office.

"Leaving already, Mr. Kirkland?" Mrs. Wister chimed. "It's only eight! This is early for you!" She teased.

"Yes well, I have to-"

"We're going for drinks. Don't listen to any lame excuse he's about to give you." Alfred interjected and snickered with the secretary as Arthur scowled and flushed red.

"Now then, I'm going to inform Evie of your current setup with myself. Hopefully she'll be able to get you a long term hotel room close to here." Arthur excused himself curtly and crossed the floor.

Alfred sighed and leaned over Zara's desk.

"Ma'am, can I ask you something and get an honest response?"

"Of course, dear." The dark woman said and cocked her head curiously.

"Is agent Kirkland always like this? Y'know, grumpy and scowling?"

"He didn't used to be, but that's what his work has done to him. I'm sure you understand; this line of work is nerve-wracking."

Alfred nodded, and Mrs. Wister patted his arm.

"Don't take it personally. He may say things that cut, but it's all in his own strange way of showing his affections. The more he insults you, the more he likes you. Also…" She leaned closer to Alfred and beckoned the CIA agent closer as she spotted the emerald-eyed Brit returning. "Thank you for taking him out for some fun. I think getting out of the office will do him some good." She whispered and winked at Alfred, who returned it with a grin and knowing look.

When Arthur stepped up to them, he narrowed his eyes at the two grinning persons.

"What's so interesting, mates?" He growled.

"Nothing, just chatting with the wonderful Mrs. Wister here." Alfred said and hooked his fingers around Arthur's arm and tugged him towards the elevator before the Brit could question him further.

Arthur grumbled and yanked his arm from the American's grasp but followed after him without further question.

As they waited for the elevator, Alfred bounced lightly on the balls of his feet and grinned down at Arthur, who glared back.

"So where are we going?" He asked brightly.

Arthur furrowed his brows. He really hadn't thought about it. He just wanted to drink, honestly. Maybe somewhere small and quiet?

"The Freud, perhaps?"

The CIA agent shrugged.

"I don't know any places here, so…"

"It's a nice little cocktail bar with a quiet scene. Not too old fashioned, but not insanely wild either."

"Sounds good!" Alfred chimed as the elevator arrived and they stepped in. As the doors shut behind them, Arthur spoke up and fished the Astra keys from his pocket.

"It's still fairly early for the night scene so we'll stop by my flat-"

"Our flat, now." Alfred snickered.

"No. My flat. I'm simply allowing you to exist in my space for a short time." Arthur retorted and twirled the keys around his fingers.

"As I was saying. I'm going to get changed into something more comfortable. You can do as you like until I'm ready."

The elevator halted and the metal doors slid back with a click. The two exited and stepped aside as two others entered after them. They walked up to the desk and Arthur tapped the counter to get Scott's attention.

"You're leaving rather early tonight, Arthur."

"Shut it. Just give the bloke his gun back so we can leave."

Scott rumbled a bit of soft laughter and returned Alfred's gun and clip and bid the two a good night as they exited the building. Alfred reinserted the clip and tucked the gun back in the holster strapped to his shoulder.

They made their way out front to find the Brit's sleek black car and climbed in. Arthur pulled out into the light traffic and relaxed his shoulders as they drove in relative silence. Alfred seemed content to simply stare out the window as the building rushed by.

By the time they had reached Arthur's flat, the emerald-eyed agent had become suspicious of the American's silence, almost worried.

When he killed the car's engine and Alfred didn't move he leaned over and shook the other's shoulder. Apparently Alfred had fallen asleep leaning against the car door.

Alfred startled and looked around for a moment before settling his sleepy blue gaze on Arthur. The American agent smiled sleepily at him.

"Sorry, I guess the jetlag caught up with me." He excused and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He gave a huge yawn as he arched his back and stretched, his hands pressed to the car roof.

"You're tired. Do you still want to go out?"

"Hell yeah!" The blue-eyed man exclaimed and slid out of the car. "That was a stupid question!" He opened the hatchback and dragged his luggage out.

Arthur's lips turned up in a sneer but got out of the car and the two went inside the building. The Brit led his American companion up to the flat and unlocked the door.

The living space was small, but homey. A single living room took up the majority of the space and was decorated in varying shades reds, tans and golds. A flat screen television was mounted to the wall in front of a plush looking red couch. Various CD and DVD cases littered the table along with empty mugs and papers.

"You'll be sleeping on that." Arthur pointed to the scarlet couch.

"Aww, we don't get to share the bed?" Alfred sing-songed and set his duffle bag on the couch. He glanced back to Arthur's pointed death glare and burning cheeks. The CIA agent couldn't help but laugh at the sight and Arthur huffed.

"I'm going to get changed. Try not to do anything stupid." He said and went into an entryway, which Alfred assumed was to the bedroom. He heard a door shut and sat down on the scarlet couch and unzipped his bag.

Rummaging through it, Alfred scanned through various articles of clothing until he found exactly what he wanted and glanced around in thought. Arthur was behind a closed door, the shades over the windows were drawn and as with most small apartments, the bathroom was attached to room Arthur was currently occupying, the bedroom.

The American shrugged and tugged off his hoodie and casually draped it over the couch arm. He continued to undress down to his underwear and proceeded to switch his attire with something more comfortable and a tad better looking then his hoodie and baggy jeans.

Arthur stepped out and shut the bedroom door behind him. He'd changed into an old _The__Who_ shirt with a light blue jacket thrown over top and a pair of dark jeans.

As he walked out into the living room jingling his keys, he caught sight of the blue eyed agent just finishing buckling a stud lined belt snuggly at his waist. The Brit swallowed hard as Alfred failed to notice him and continued to fidget with the belt as Arthur drank in the rather nice view.

Alfred had changed into a pair of gray skinny jeans that hugged his thighs perfectly and had various revealing rips and tears along the legs. A tight, ebony shirt hugged his torso, flaring the sturdy muscle beneath and exposed the entirety of the American's worked biceps.

He must have been starring for a while because Alfred turned around after feeling the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.

"Oh hey! You ready?" He asked with a smug grin, seeing the look on the Brit's face. Clearly he liked what he saw and that fell perfectly into place with the American's plan to get Arthur to like him. If he couldn't do it via personality, looking dead sexy would just have to do.

"Uh, yes, of course I am, bloody wanker! Let's go already." Arthur nearly stumbled over his words and turned on his heel to walk to the front door. Alfred followed him back out to the car still wearing a smug grin.

They drove out along Shaftesbury until the reached the bar, nestled in and oddly plain. Only a slick black sign mounted on the building front announced the place, and an oddly placed staircase at the front.

Arthur parked the car and exited the vehicle, locking it behind him as the American strutted up to his side.

"I'd like to remind you that you're still not a stud and that I'd prefer if you laid low and didn't try to jump the first ass offered to you."

"Ouch!" Alfred chuckled. "That's pretty harsh." He said and lightly punched the Brit's shoulder, which earned him yet another glare.

"I'm just being cautious." Arthur retorted as they entered the bar and took up their seats at the far end of the rickety bar. The rough, worn look of the wood and furniture in the bar and dim lighting gave the place a comfortable, older feel, but the bouncing music droning through the air gave it just enough vibe to feel like an actual fun bar. Alfred decided he rather liked the place already.

A perky bartender approached them.

"Evening gents! What can I get you boys to start?"

"You guys have Long Island iced teas?" Alfred inquired with a pleasant smile at the woman. She nodded and looked to Arthur.

"Tanqueray and tonic, if you please." Arthur said.

"Single or double?"

"Double."

The woman nodded and started to prepare their drinks. Alfred grinned at his British companion.

"I see someone's going to take advantage of my offer."

"Indeed I am, American." Arthur responded as the woman set their drinks in front of them. He plucked the lime slice from the rim of the glass, squeezed out the juices and dropped it into the drink before taking a sip.

Alfred rolled his eyes and took a drink from his glass. He licked his lips, the drink was slightly sourer than he remembered, but it had been a while since he'd actually taken the time to enjoy any alcohol.

As the night ticked on and more and more drinks were consumed, their lips loosened and somehow Alfred had turned the conversation towards past lovers.

"Y'know, back stateside, I dated this one girl." He paused and took another sip from his fourth iced tea. "Yasmine, yeah that was her name. She was hot, but she was a total bitch. She ended up stealing my credit cards and dumping me for some laptop geek that worked at her office." He slurred slightly and sipped the drink again. "That was like, four years ago though."

Arthur nodded. He slammed back the rest of glass of whiskey. He'd decided to switch up his drinks after the third tanqueray.

"What about you?" Alfred asked.

"Don't date much, mate."

"Aww c'mon. You had to have at least had one boyfriend, right?"

"Yeah, a couple actually. I dated this French guy once. He was a perv and I left his sorry arse."

For some reason, likely the alcohol, Alfred found that incredibly funny and giggled ridiculously.

"It's not funny, you bastard!" Arthur growled back and waved the bartender over for another glass. The American continued to giggle and finished his iced tea before beckoning the woman for another also. As she placed the drink in front of him, Alfred leaned against the bar.

"Y'know, you're really good looking, babe." He tried to sound suggestive, but it came out rather goofy and the woman rolled her eyes with a coy smile before walking away.

"Damn…" Alfred groaned and started on his fifth drink. Arthur chuckled smugly.

"I told you, you're just not the stud you think you are."

"Funny, 'cause you seemed to like what you saw back at the apartment." The CIA agent retorted and giggled again at the blush that alighted brighter over the slightly drunk Brit's cheeks.

"Shut it. I was just thinking of someone else."

"Oh really? Who?" Alfred asked, leaning close to Arthur, who didn't seem to mind the American's alcoholic breath so close to his face.

"No one you know."

"That Frenchie you mentioned maybe? Or are you just lying to cover your ass?"

Arthur scowled and sputtered.

"No, I just-"

"Admit it, you like what you see." The taller blond winked and went back to his drink.

Arthur tucked his chin to his chest.

"Alright, so you're not bad. Get over it."

Alfred hazy mind went wild with triumph. Even if he felt the SIS agent had minimized it, it was still a victory.

"Thank you, agent Kirkland." He retorted and ushered the bartender over again. He ordered a pair of Bacardi Rum and Cokes for them both as he noticed Arthur had slammed down most of his whiskey again. He was starting to grow bored with the sweet and sour tang of the iced teas as well.

The two drank through them and time and the number of drinks poured down their throats started to blur together. Alfred wasn't sure what time it was but the bar was mostly empty now and the bartender who'd been attending them was becoming more and more reluctant to pass them any more liquid courage.

"Uh, Artie?" Alfred slurred out blearily looking to his fellow agent. The Brit growled.

"Call me that again, and I will end you." He slurred in return. The blue-eyed man giggled as the threat sloppily came across.

"Maybe we should call it a night?"

"What's wrong? Can't handle your liquor, huh, git?" Arthur taunted and just to prove a point drowned a large gulp of his drink and grinned at the fiery burn in his throat.

"We gotta get up in the morning, dude." Alfred reminded, though he really couldn't care less. His poisoned nerves were more interested in tipping back another drink rather than worrying about the hangover to come.

"A sensible point." Arthur bobbed his head and finished the drink before turning to face the American.

"I'll leave you to pay." He simply said and slid from the seat, wobbling as he hit the ground.

Alfred narrowed his eyes, having to squint as his glasses had slipped farther down his face. He adjusted them and grumbled as he waved the bar tender over, and handed her his CIA issued card. It was nice having the agency cover his expenses, though his could be a bit hard to explain when he returned. He'd have to play it off as relevant to the mission.

When she returned and handed him his card back, Alfred left a generous tip and wobbled out of the bar with a wink at the girl.

As stumbled out into the parking lot he found Arthur struggling with trying to get the keys out of his pocket.

"You really gonna drive?" Alfred inquired and leaned against the Astra.

"Of course, I'm plenty sober!"

Alfred burst into laughter and clapped the Brit's shoulder.

"If you're sober, than I'm one ugly fucker." He grinned and Arthur glared at him, though it was a lot less intimidating while the man was flushed from alcohol and the blue-eyed man observing him was rather drunk.

"Then what do we do, bastard?" Arthur retorted and finally fished out his keys and unlocked the doors.

"We could-" Alfred had to pause to repress the urge to violently puke and forced down the bile in his throat. Alcohol sucked going down the second time.

"We could just, y'know, get someone to drive us. 'Cause I don't want to die."

"We'll be fine. I'm a great driver." Arthur argued but quieted as the American slipped closer to him and wrapped his arm around Arthur's shoulder.

"You know, you're kinda cute when you're drunk." The American observed and poked Arthur's cheek playfully. Everything looked cute right about now though.

Arthur grinned wickedly and hooked his fingers into Alfred belt loops and pulled the CIA agent flush against him. Alfred twined his arms behind Arthur's neck in response and leaned his forehead against the Brit's. He started to giggle.

"You're short."

Arthur had enough sense to leer at the American but found it hard to be angry when the taller's warm body pressed harder against him. His anger dissolved completely as Alfred placed a sloppy kiss on Arthur's liquor lined lips.

The emerald-eyed agent vigorously kissed back and plunged his tongue into the American's mouth, earning a blood-rushing groan from the taller.

Alfred felt his heart speed up as the Brit's hands slithered from his belt loops to one of the cuts in his jeans and wiggled his fingers in to brush the skin on his thigh beneath. The CIA agent laced his fingers through the Brit's shorter, messy hair and pressed back against Arthur, shifting for a better angle.

They made out in drunken passion until they were both forced to release the other's mouth for much needed oxygen.

Panting lightly, Arthur smiled devilishly and reached behind him to open the backseat door of the Astra. The slight distraction played on Alfred and the Brit took advantage of it to push the CIA agent down into the seat, lying out on his back with his legs dangling out of the car. He grinned at Arthur, already feeling emboldened by the fiery liquid in his system.

In the back of his rational mind, something told Arthur to stop now. That he'd regret his in the morning when they were both sober but he promptly told the voice where to shove it and climbed on top of Alfred, straddling the American. He was not about to turn down this fine piece of American ass grinning up at him like a tease.

The blue-eyed agent's eyelids fluttered as Arthur brushed his groin as he clambered on top. When Arthur's lips sealed his own in another raging kiss, he knew instantly that he was going to thoroughly enjoy this now, even if he regretted it later.

**Bah! You thought I'd give you guys the good stuff already? Hahahahahaha no~! :D Stay tuned for hot gay secret agent sex in the back of a car...maybe. :3**

**Also, the Freud is actually a real bar in London. It's supposed to look as I described it, but I've never been, only read some reviews on it. Sounded like a neat little place!**

**Until next time, my lovelies! Veee~!**


	5. Friction

**Risico**

**Chapter 5: Friction**

**A/N: Ok, I confess, I've never done this before and I'm not gonna embarrass myself trying to explain. Go easy on me, like I said. First time *crosses fingers***

**EDIT: READ CHAPTER 6 FOR EXPLANATION.**

**Hope you guys like it! *blushes***

Arthur hungrily attacked Alfred's throat, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin while his hands furiously tried to work Alfred out of his clothing. As lovely as it looked on the CIA agent, it was a hassle to remove. Unclasping the belt buckle took far too long in Arthur's opinion; he expressed that frustration in a rather savage bite to the pulse point he had found at the crook of the American's neck.

Alfred moaned around a grin. Vaguely, his drunken mind wondered if that was supposed to hurt for a moment but became lost in a more pleasing vice as the man above him sucked and lapped at the point, ensuring a rather dark hickey would be well defined there.

Taking a little extra initiative, The American slipped his hands up to Arthur's chest, grabbing the light blue jacket, and forcibly yanking at it. Arthur caught the forceful hint. He shrugged his shoulders to toss away one layer of the offending clothing. Alfred didn't let up there, though, as he slithered his hands under the Brit's shirt, stroking the lean, sleek muscle beneath.

Arthur grinned at the warm, lightly calloused hands pleasing his abdominal muscles. He forced himself to focus; this clothing _had_ to go. He slipped his fingers under the edge of Alfred's shirt and tugged it off with the CIA agent arching to help with its removal. Arthur pitched the shirt somewhere, not really caring where it ended up.

The Brit sat back, using Alfred's bent legs for support as he admired the American's sculpted figure. The emerald-eyed agent noted a long, white scar trailing over Alfred's heart but was more interested in examining the many flawless planes, rather than the single marred one.

Alfred's hands slipped down, resting on the SIS agent's thighs to clutch at the fabric. Damn it, why did Arthur have to stop? He was rather enjoying having his neck thoroughly taste tested and practically devoured.

The shorter set his hands on Alfred's stomach, leaning forward to lick from his naval, right to the hollow of his throat before latching on to his collar to realign his mouth to the tantalizingly bronzed skin.

The American agent moaned and shuddered at the feel of the wet muscle lapping his chest. He laced his fingers into the Brit's hair, forcing him up into a hot, sloppy kiss to taste the affections of that skilled tongue. They both loosed pleased groans as their tongues collided, sliding and warring until the overly aggressive SIS agent won out.

Alfred resigned to letting the Brit thoroughly mouth rape him while he reached to unclasp the button on Arthur's jeans, sliding the zipper down with a quick flick of his wrist.

Arthur released his cerulean-eyed victim to wiped the long string of saliva connecting them away with a throaty chuckle.

"Someone's eager."

"No talking. Sex only." The American breathed, grabbing Arthur by the shirt, practically ripping it off him. His hands then trailed to grip the Brit's hips in a bruising vice, pulling him down harder against his body. He bucked his own hips up to press their painfully clothed crotches together.

Arthur rumbled a delectable moan that went straight to Alfred's groin. He decided to cut to the chase. While his teeth and tongue latched to an overly sensitive nipple, his hands worked to undo the American's fly. Arthur forced the other's pants down to palm the Alfred's crotch through his boxers.

The CIA agent groaned, bucking against the teasing hand on his groin. It was almost painful how constricting the normally comfortable cloth had become. He voiced his discomfort with a low mewl that made Arthur grin wickedly.

He'd grant the American his wish in do time, but first came getting the clingy skinny jeans fully off Alfred's legs. The blue-eyed man eagerly shimmied out of the jeans, kicking them off. They landed at the Astra's doorframe, half dangling out of the car.

Something about doing that reminded the lusty agent that they were still in a very public parking lot with the car door wide open. While it gave him a pleasing tingle in his stomach at the prospect, he really didn't want to deal with getting arrested for public indecency.

He struggled to inform Arthur of this as the Brit's tongue did wondrous, kinky things to his pert nipples.

"Fuck….Artie…" He groaned out at last in mangled words.

"What happened to no talking?" The Brit asked, releasing him but not bothering to look up at the American as he hovered over his chest.

"The door, oh nghhh~" He whined low as Arthur moved again, pressing their clothed erections together. The SIS agent shifted forward, generating even more pressure, which practically drove Alfred's drunken, lusty mind over the edge.

"Move up, unless you want your legs caught in the door, git." He ordered. Damn, how did those normally very rude orders sound incredibly sexy in this situation? Alfred wondered but broke the thought as he obeyed, and heard the door slam shut.

"Now then, where were we?" Arthur rhetorically pondered aloud before he slipped the American's underwear down to release his lover's impressive erection. Alfred shuddered as the air breezed his completely exposed body. He nearly chocked on a howl of pleasure as Arthur suddenly dipped down to skim his tongue from the tip to the base of his manhood.

The insatiable urge that Alfred felt to buck his hips forced Arthur pin the American's hips as he worked the American's cock into his mouth.

Alfred squirmed, while a continual stream of groans and mewls of pleasure escaped him as the shorter manipulated his sensitive organ with a skilled tongue. He continued his ministrations, lapping at dribbling liquid forming at the head. When Alfred started to pant, the Brit couldn't help but glance up to watch the American's hot, flushed face.

Arthur felt it all rush straight to his groin. He hummed against Alfred's cock, making the taller shudder with a pleased noise.

The CIA agent found it hard to fight off the coiling, condensing heat in his gut as Arthur sucked him. His breath came in shuddering gasps as the shorter worked him. He knotted his fingers in the Brit's hair as the pressure built. Arthur didn't seem to mind the soft tugging on his scalp, though.

Alfred was more than a bit disappointed, to say the least, when Arthur suddenly released him with a light _pop._

"Fuck~! Not fair, Artie!" Alfred whined.

By now he was panting hard, sweat glistening the whole length of his exposed body. Arthur hovered over him a moment longer, tongue hanging from his mouth, dripping with excess saliva and pre-cum. Alfred had to admit, it was probably the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

The Brit smirked, moving to get out of the painfully tight leg wear, to which Alfred was more than obliged to lean up to nearly rip them down his lover's legs. Arthur chuckled, pushing the American back down before the dominant agent pressed three fingers to the American's lips with a wicked grin.

Alfred returned the grin, shoving the other's hands away, then dragged him down into another heated kiss before pulling away a bit.

"Nuh uh, whoever said you could top me?" Alfred slurred, eyes hazy.

"You're in no position to disagree." Arthur retorted, leaning to nibble the American's earlobe.

The CIA agent grabbed his shorter lover's side. He flipped them, nearly rolling off the seat in the process, but effectively reversing the situation. The emerald-eyed man growled up at him.

"My car, my rules. I top and that's that." Arthur grinned, mimicking the American's move to return them back to their original arrangement. With another swift move, Alfred yipped as he was flipped onto his stomach, Arthur settling above him.

"Now then…" Arthur purred, offering his fingers to the American again. Alfred took the digits into his mouth, coating each of them thoroughly. Arthur kissed and licked the taller's neck in eager anticipation.

"I'm surprised you didn't fight that more." Arthur whispered huskily into Alfred's ear, then gave it a long lick for good measure.

Alfred released the coated fingers, not bothering to wipe away the excess saliva rolling down his chin as he spoke.

"As a good asset, you learn to please targets, not dominate them." He chuckled, pushing back against Arthur, just to reiterate the point of his urgency.

"You like to take it?" Inquired the Brit as he sat back to work the first soaked finger between Alfred's tight cheeks. The blue-eyed man groaned in pleasure as the digit worked past the ring of muscle and started caressing his inside walls. Arthur didn't hesitate long to plunge the second finger in and start to actually stretch him.

"I'd like it better if you got it up already!" The American choked out, burying his head in his arm, not bothering hold back his pleasured noises. He hated how slow Arthur was moving. Didn't the Brit get it?

Foregoing the third finger to sate the American's urgency, Arthur slipped his fingers free to loop his arm around Alfred's waist. He brought the CIA agent up on his knees before he spit into his own palm to coat his throbbing cock.

He leaned over his lover , lining himself up. The Brit nuzzled Alfred's back; lips pressed to sweet, sweat shimmering skin.

"Ready?"

"Christ! Fuck me already, you damned tease!" Alfred rumbled, looking over his shoulder, back at Arthur, eyes dark with a fierce lust.

The SIS agent didn't need another drop of motivation before he plunged into the welcoming body. Alfred's back arched and he couldn't help but howl out a cry of pain. So maybe he should have allowed Arthur to fully prep him, but who the Hell cared? All that mattered was that Arthur, pale, gorgeous, drop-dead sexy Arthur was sheathed in him and if that man didn't start moving Alfred would go insane!

It was at times like these that Alfred was glad for his high pain tolerance. He allotted himself a moment to adjust to the feeling of being full, then pressed back against the Brit.

"Move!" He chocked out, sweat beading on his skin just from the incredible feeling of being like this. It hurt like hell, but sent a burning fire through his veins that slowly began to make everything feeling amazing.

Arthur obliged, gripping the American's hips in a steadying vice before withdrawing and slamming back into him.

Alfred felt his throat burn raw as he vocalized just how good it felt as Arthur repeated the motion in a furious rhythm. The Brit was merciless, quickly find that perfect spot and exploited it.

Alfred rolled back against him with another cry, feeling the annoying sting behind his eyes and his vision moistened. _Fuck,_ it felt so damned good, especially when he felt the Brit's hand curl around his weeping erection to pump him with the same intensity he was thrusting with.

Arthur dug his nails into the soft flesh on Alfred's hips, growling like an animal against he other's flushed skin. The American was tight, but not enough to hinder Arthur's pace at all. It was something his drunken, sex-blinded mind appreciated.

The Brit's thrusts started to become erratic, but stronger and Alfred felt himself drawing closer. His jaws parted in a shuddering cry. He couldn't help the tears that spilt over in pure ecstasy, as all the heat coiled tighter and tighter in his gut so fast that it made his whole body rush with a shudder.

"Artie…I'm-I'm gonna-" He panted hard, words just didn't seem to work and his tongue couldn't function around the excess saliva dripping from lips. It was too late anyway as his whole body jolted violently with release and the CIA agent cried out Arthur's name in a throat-tearing scream.

The American's tight body shuddering and clamping down didn't leave Arthur far behind as he moaned Alfred's name against said man's slick back. His eyes fluttered shut as he arched to ride out his release before the American's trembling limbs failed to support them both. They collapsed ungracefully to the soiled backseats of the Astra in a tangle of limbs and hot breath.

The shorter blond freed himself of Alfred then collapsed onto his side beside the still panting agent. Alfred rolled onto his side to drew Arthur against him, nuzzling into the Brit's neck.

"Damn, that was good." He muttered into Arthur's neck. The Brit wrapped his legs around the American's in perfectly intimate content. He laced his fingers into the American's golden locks and kissed his flushed cheek.

Arthur's mind, set on afterglow, didn't really care that he'd have to get the seats cleaned, or that they were still in a very public place, or that Alfred's pants were caught hanging in the shut car door or anything other than the pleasant all over buzz that he could share with the blue-eyed agent.

He found himself drifting into the best sleep of his life with the American's now steady breathing against his neck and the strong heartbeat against his own. He pulled the discarded blue jacket off the floor beside him, draping it over them before he settled in to sleep off the alcohol with the CIA agent nestled in his arms.

**I REGRET NOTHING! not proofed fyi, no time, got to get to work!**

**:D**


	6. Hit and Run

**Risico**

**Chapter 6: Hit and Run**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek! :)**

**A/N: Ok since I didn't explain with last chapter, let me cover that now.**

**I know the story is titled USUK, and it will be, I assure you. Sorry if the 1st smut scene came across as false advertising. Sadly, I'm one of those people who applies logic to everything. EVERYTHING. That includes porn. xD**

**Why'd Artie get to top last chapter? Well, a few reason. One was Author frustration. I started typing it and got about 3/4s of the way through when the power cut out. The orginal had Alfie topping. Well, of course it wasn't saved. Rather pissed off I turned the computer back on and thought, 'that's ok, cause i have microsoft words's out save and recovery mode running. It'll all be there when I get everything back up.'**

**So, computer gets back up, I open Microsoft word and bam, it's there and I'm all happy until I click and start to type again. Now Vista makes a very distinctive _ping_ when a program stops working and guess what sound I hear? The Vista _ping_! I look up to see the pop up box that says word has stopped responding and the only option i can click is force close. I do so, and then bring it back up. Guess what what's not there anymore? That's right, chapter 5! Gone, everything, not even an auto save file left I could fish around for. Fuck.**

**'that's ok, it was only 7 pages.. *twitch*' *starts typing again and notices halfway through that Alfred is still topping and begins to think* Now here's where logic started. They are both very drunk. That obviously leaves lots of open possibilities. Second, Alfred invited Artie to drink to get the Brit not to hate him anymore. He's trying to please Artie, hence foregoing topping. Not to mention, I imagine Arthur to be a very, very, very proud person. I don't think he'd take kindly to the person he's trying not to get attached two giving it to him. That and they are in Artie's car. I think he'd be offended if he didn't get to top in the back of his own damn car! Lol that's just me though.**

**Sorry if ya'll didn't like it and thanks to those who did and left lovely encouraging comments. You guys make it all better! ;)**

**Anyway, next sexy scene will be with a uke!Arthur, as i advertised. Until then, enjoy this little angsty rant chapter. Lol, awkward, never~.**

**Oh and the italic stuff is a text conversation, just so you know. btw, ill fix all the errors with ch 5 tomorrow when I finally get a day off from work! :P American Trains will be updated then as well.**

Arthur sighed heavily and opened his eyes to the morning light filtering in hazily from the tinted windows of the Astra. A moment later the sharp thumping in his head registered and he squeezed his eyes shut to bury closer to the warm body against him.

Wait.

The SIS agent shot up, doubling the pain in his head and making himself nauseas. He forced the bile down and he looked around. This was defiantly his car, but why the Hell was he naked, and just why was he in the back seat, and why did it smell like booze and sex?

The events of the previous night came rushing back and suddenly everything clicked. He'd obviously been drinking, and, he looked down to the still sleeping and very naked American agent sprawled in back seat with him, which explained the naked part.

Arthur wrung his fingers from his messy blond hair. _Did__we__really?_

Alfred stirred then with a groan and blinked awake. He reached his hand over, blindly groping for the missing warm body he groggily knew had to be somewhere around here. His finger's brushed Arthur's bare leg, and the Brit shivered.

"Alfred, get up!" He whispered harshly, trying to keep his voice down knowing that Alfred's head was probably throbbing just as painfully as his own.

"Don' wanna." Alfred groaned, still more asleep then awake and shut his eyes again.

The shorter blond growled and shook the other's shoulder.

"Get up! Now!" He ordered and Alfred groaned once more but opened his eyes again. He flashed Arthur a sleepy grin.

"Can I look forward to waking up like this again?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes with his signature scowl.

"No, what you can look forward to is getting the bloody fuck out of my car!" Arthur roared and instantly regretted it as his headache flared up and he groaned.

Alfred sat and removed his glass so that he could rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Don't be like that Artie."

"Don't call me that."

"You let me last night."

Arthur snarled, and balled his hands to fists, his nails digging into his palms.

"Don't be a smart arse, I can't believe what you did!"

"Me?" Alfred was genuinely shocked at the obvious accusation. He reached for his lenses again and perched them on his nose.

"Yes, you! I didn't want to have sex with you!"

"Funny, 'cause you were like a dog all over me!" Alfred retorted. "I'm pretty damned sure you wanted it."

"I was drunk!"

"So was I!"

"You could have stopped me!" Arthur was practically seeing red. This was clearly the American's fault. He'd gotten Arthur drunk just to get in his pants, right?

"Mmm, right. I could have. I could have kicked your ass eight ways to Sunday, but I was under the impression that you wanted it!"

"Certainly not with you." Arthur sneered in return, disgust dripping from his words. "This is your fault."

"I can't believe this! I take it in the ass just to make you happy, and you're going to blame it on me? You've got some nerve!"

Before Arthur could say another word a curious, droning buzz reverberated from somewhere in the car. Arthur recognized it as his phone vibrating and sighed. He fished around the back seat for his discarded pant and pulled phone from his pocket. As he turned the screen on, the Brit was greeted by a variety of missed calls and text messages inquiring of his whereabouts. That's when he noticed the time at the top corner. 11:02am.

"Fuck!" Arthur exclaimed. He normally came into the office at seven in the morning. He was four hours late. He gave a pointed glare to the American practically in his lap with an annoyed expression.

"I'm going to put this very simply so that even you can understand-"

Alfred scoffed bitterly.

"Get the Hell out of my car, find yourself a hotel, and don't ever speak to me again." Arthur said low, his voice punctuating each syllable with spite.

"What about the case, genius?"

"You'll be receiving a new partner, I've already requested to be removed from it anyway." Of course he wasn't about to tell the American that request had been denied, but now he had a perfectly valid reason to give Evie. Relations weren't permitted between partners; it made too many situations compromising. Explaining the drunken one night stand in the back of the Astra would be awkward, but still, it was the principle.

Alfred's shoulders went rigid, but in the moment of vulnerability he looked genuinely hurt.

The taller man grabbed his discarded underwear and managed to slip them on before getting out of the car and glaring down at Arthur as he tugged his pants free as well before slipping them on.

"Sorry, didn't mean to upset you and be your convenient fuck." He snarled in return and slammed the door shut, storming off into the empty parking lot.

Arthur sighed and proceeded to redress in the cramped backseat of the Astra before climbing into the driver seat and starting the vehicle. He barely waited for the engine to roar to life before slamming it into drive and speeding away back on to Shaftesbury.

The CIA agent looked back over his shoulder and groaned. Damn it, he hadn't thought Arthur would actually drive away. Now how was he supposed to find somewhere to stay?

He sighed in defeat and sat down in the empty parking spot he was standing in and brought his legs against his bare chest.

"Fuck you, Arthur…" He grumbled to himself before pulling out his phone. The brightly lit screen had an obnoxious glare from the sunlight beaming down on him but he just wanted to talk with someone and he knew just the person.

_Alfred: Hey Mattie._

_Matthew: Alfred, its 6 in the morning. I'm trying to get ready for work._

_Alfred: Its 11 here. Sorry. I just wanted to talk. :(_

_Matthew: Whats up?_

_Alfred: I think my new partner just pulled a nail n bail. :(_

_Matthew: That sucks. He leave u to comfort the victim?_

_Alfred: I am the victim._

_Matthew: Shit. I'm sorry, bro. :(_

_Alfred: it happens._

_Matthew: That's an awful way to think. R u ok?_

_Alfred: I guess._

_Matthew: ur not._

_Alfred: Would u be?_

_Matthew: No. I guess not. What r u going to do?_

_Alfred: Idk. I'm just sitting in a parking lot now._

_Matthew: He dumped u in a parking lot? That's low._

_Alfred: We did it in the parking lot. Well more in the back of his car in the parking lot._

_Matthew: tmi! Dx Still…_

_Alfred: Lol, sorry bro. :P My ass hurts now._

_Matthew: o_0 U let him top?_

_Alfred: Yeah. Bad idea, next time though. ;P_

_Matthew: Next time? U still want to hook up with him?_

_Alfred: Hes my partner, and he's hot._

_Matthew: If it has an orifice u think its hot. -_-_

_Alfred: D: not true!_

_Matthew: Whatever. I guess this makes the case awkward, eh?_

_Alfred: He said hes getting reassigned so idk. :(_

_Matthew: Oh. U need me to wire money or anything?_

_Alfred: No. I still have my wallet tho he drove off with my gun._

_Matthew: hail a cab and find a hotel I guess?_

_Alfred: That's what he told me. :( I just have to motivate myself to getting my sorry ass up._

_Matthew: Itll be ok Al. Everything works out, right?_

_Alfred: I wish. :(_

_Matthew: Cheer up, at least the guy was clean, right?_

_Alfred: Fuck! Idk! Great, now I probably have AIDs or something. :( FML._

Alfred heard the thundering purr of a car engine just behind him, but didn't think anything of it. It was a parking lot after all. Unfortunately he was sitting in the middle of a prime spot and engine roar drew closer until the American could feel the heat rolling off the vehicle.

He growled low, he sure as Hell wasn't moving and didn't even look back. The lot was practically empty and the jerk behind him could find another place not occupied by a very annoyed and sore CIA agent. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

The car roared behind him, jerking to nearly brush Alfred's back. Was the guy really going to roll right over him? The blonde flinched away, scrambling back as the car continued to approach, revving and throwing off heat like some sort of angry steel monster advancing on its prey.

From his angle on the ground and the car's front grill plate puffing hotly on his face, Alfred couldn't see the driver. The agent's first instinct was to reach for his gun, which wasn't there and he snarled.

He put his hand on the shined front plate of the car, as if that could stop the half-ton of steel from running over him. The engine revved.

"Stop!" Alfred called, anger boiling up in his blood. He didn't need this; he was already pissed off as it was. Some punk trying to play a bad joke in his shiny, black Astra wasn't on Alfred's list of things to do today. Wait, a black Astra?

The engine revved again, the car jerking slightly. Alfred stared the grill plate down a moment longer before pulling himself up, his hand resting on the car's hood.

Staring back at him from the behind the tinted windshield of the Astra was none other than Arthur Kirkland. The emerald-eyed agent opened the door and stepped out, leaning against the open door.

He matched Alfred's glare with a look of apathy.

"Get in. We have a case that needs solving."

"We? I thought you never wanted to speak to me again?" Alfred spit bitter venom back at the blond from across the hood of the still rumbling Astra.

"The case requires both of our skills. We can talk about it on the way to my flat. Evie, err, my boss said I could work from home today."

"No thanks. I'm done with you." Alfred said, and then slammed his fist into the Astra's hood, leaving a faint dent. He turned and started walking away, shaking out his throbbing hand.

"Alfred! Wait!" Arthur called after, the impending failure making his head hurt even worse.

The CIA agent threw his partner the one fingered salute over his shoulder and didn't stop. He had no idea just where he was going, but just walking across the parking lot made him feel so much better though.

Lost in his own fiery thoughts he didn't hear the door shut and the engine of the black vehicle rumbled louder as it drew up, passed him and intercepted his pathway, effectively blocking him.

Alfred halted then and crossed his arms in front of his chest as Arthur stepped out of the car again. His head was bowed and they stood in silence again before Alfred bitterly prompted the Brit.

"Well? Do you want something? 'Cause if not, you could kindly get the fuck out of my way."

"Alfred, I-I'm sorry. I over reacted." Arthur murmured under his breath.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that."

"I said I'm sorry!" Arthur said louder and finally looked up to meet Alfred's narrowed blue eyes. "Please, let's just get the bloody hell out of here and get cleaned up. We can talk at my flat."

"Talk about what?"

"Us."

Alfred cocked his head curiously. It hadn't been the response he'd expected. He'd assumed the Brit would jump straight to the case. The blue-eyed blond resigned with a sigh and walked around the car to climb into the passenger seat. Arthur mirrored him, only in the driver side.

The CIA agent pulled out his phone again and refused to look at Arthur as they started to drive.

"I'm still mad at you." He said.

"I know."

"But thanks for coming back for me."

The American saw Arthur shrug out of his peripheral vision and looked at the phone and chuckled softly, reading over Matthew's texts.

_Matthew: Aww, I doubt it. I'm sure you can get tested at any hospital._

_Matthew: Al? U ok?_

_Matthew: Helloooooooo? Al?_

_Alfred: Sorry. He came back for me._

_Matthew: Cute. ;)_

_Alfred: Shut up. He apologized too. Should I forgive him?_

_Matthew: Well, he did come back._

_Alfred: It was probably just guilt._

_Matthew: Everyone deserves a 2nd chance. :)_

_Alfred: ur too nice._

_Matthew: so u gonna forgive him?_

Alfred glanced sidelong to Arthur, who wore a tired expression.

_Alfred: Yeah. I guess so. I've got a soft spot for British accents anyway._

_Matthew: You're in London, bro. Everyone's got a British accent._

_Alfred: His is the sexiest tho._

_Matthew: ur a mess, Al._

_Alfred: but I'm a hot mess. ;)_

_Matthew: What ever u say. I really need to get ready for work now. Message me later. I want to know how it goes. ;)_

_Alfred: ok. Bye Mattie._

_Matthew: bye._

**:) Veee~!**


	7. Chinese Conspiracy

**Risico**

**Chapter 7: Chinese Conspiracy**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek! :)**

**A/N: Not much to say. Introducing (indirectly) the story's bad guy, at last! Only took me 7 chapters! :P**

**Reviews:**

**Inkaugneato: Peeshaw, if it was me, Alfie'd be road kill! xD**

**Kay: yes, you will see Mattie eventually, I'm not sure when though. Still cranking the details out.**

**TwistedRoses: Yes, he was shirtless the whole time. Much to the pleasure of those passing by I'm sure. ;)**

**Alphine and Bia: It's cool, I'm not upset or anything. :) I should have explained earlier, anyway. :)**

**Alguien: It could be Reversi, I have no idea! xD Lol**

**Anyway, *bows* Enjoy!**

Alfred sighed heavily and looked out the tinted window, watching the buildings and cars rush by in a blur of mostly neutral colors. He'd tucked the phone away in his pocket and managed to collect his shirt from the back seat.

What should have been a short drive felt like eternity and the day after for them both. The obvious tension filling the thin space between them was suffocating.

When Arthur pulled up to the flat building and killed the engine, Alfred could feel the relief settle in his chest at being able to escape the trap of a car when he opened the door and stepped out.

It wasn't that he was really that mad at Arthur; it was just he wasn't sure what to say to the Brit at the moment. He didn't like being at a loss for words. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

Arthur walked ahead of him without a word and lead them back up the building stairs and unlocked the flat. The Brit ushered Alfred inside, and as he closed the door behind him, he used it for support and leaned back against it.

The American stopped when he realized Arthur wasn't following and looked back. His glass blue eyes glimmered in silent inquiry.

"I lied, Alfred." Arthur murmured, feeling self-conscious.

"About?" The American inquired and walked back to stand over Arthur.

"Last night. I-I, uh-" The Brit was cut off by a pair of warm American lips sealed against his own. The blue-eyed agent pulled away, settling his hands on Arthur's shoulders. Well, if words wouldn't work, maybe this would.

"You liked it, I know." Alfred said with a sly grin and a wink before he released the Brit's shoulders and strutted to the couch. He pulled the hoodie back over his torso and settled into the beloved piece of clothing's familiar comfort.

Arthur rolled his eyes and unhitched himself from the door before walking up to Alfred.

"Are you still upset?"

"Sort of, I guess."

"Oh." The Brit looked down at the narrow space between them.

"I'm more pissed at you for actually driving away, just so you know." Alfred grumbled.

"Yes well," Arthur trailed off and heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry about that. I was rather upset and all."

"Y'know there are better ways to deal with that, right?"

"Of course I do, you twit!" Retorted and grumbled under his breath. "I just-" He sighed and flopped down on the couch with less grace than Alfred thought possible for the usually poised Brit.

"So what made you come back?" Alfred inquired as he sat down beside the ruffled SIS agent. He watched in amusement as the other man's cheeks flushed high with a red tint.

"I, uh, I felt bad and when I-I called Mrs. Wister to inform her of my tardiness, she was rather disappointed that you'd not be returning with me, so…"

Alfred put his hand to his mouth to try and hide an obvious snicker. His shoulders started to shake.

"She made you come back for me?" He chocked out around his grin. The Brit blushed harder and sneered.

"No!" He tried to defend.

"The mighty agent Kirkland, reduced to taking orders from his secretary to pick up his stranded boyfriend from a parking lot on agency time? That's so sad it's pathetic!" Alfred roared with laughter, falling back along the couch cushions with his legs stretched out over Arthur's lap.

"_Pathetic?__Boyfriend?"_ Arthur sputtered and made a futile shove at the blue-eyed agent's long legs. When the man braced and didn't budge, Arthur resigned and allowed it.

"Well yeah, you bang it, you keep it." Alfred stated matter-of-factly. He settled his arms behind his head like a pillow and closed his eyes.

"I don't recall having any agreement on that."

"You signed your name on the dotted line when you pushed me into the car."

Arthur growled and rested his hands on Alfred's knees. It was silent for a few moments before Arthur spoke.

"You don't seem every upset anymore."

"I'm not the kind of guy to hold a grudge or stay angry long. I'd go crazy in this line of work if I was. Besides, I feel bad for you having been chewed out by your own sweet, little, old secretary. That and I've been told you deserve a second chance."

"Hmm, by whom?"

"My brother, Matthew."

"Wait a moment. You told your brother about, well, about what happened in the car?"

"Yep, and about you driving away too."

"Fantastic." Arthur growled back. "Why?"

"Because I tell Mattie everything?" Alfred peeked a single eyes open.

"Have you read him in?"

"Yeah. Funny story about that, we ended up reading each other in on the same day."

Arthur furrowed his brows. Had he heard that right?

"You're both agents?"

"Yep. Crazy, right? He joined FBI in their cyber crime division but CIA offered him more and he transferred to us. I think they're still bitter over losing a guy like Mattie.

"Anyway, I joined into investigations and assets. After we ended up awkwardly reading each other in he asked for a transfer to my department as our tech specialist.

"A Hell of a lot of string pulling and brown nosing eventually got us as partners. Naturally I did the fieldwork with Mattie as the brains behind me. We make an awesome pair." The CIA agent stated proudly, a beaming grin on his face.

"I can assume you two are close?" Arthur inquired. Alfred bobbed his head in a nod.

"Honestly, when they sprung this mission on me, I was pretty upset Mattie wasn't coming with. I'm not used to going on missions without him backing me up from behind his computer desk or some rigged observation van." The American chuckled.

"So then, your brother said I deserved a second chance, right?"

"Yep."

"Are you going to give me one?"

Alfred grinned and rolled his eyes playfully.

"I'm still here aren't I?"

"Yes, and my legs are going numb from you being sprawled on me. Let me up, I have to grab the mission files anyway, since we do need to work on that."

The blue-eyed agent kicked up his legs for Arthur to escape the imposed lap bar and watched the Brit rise and go into his bedroom.

When he returned with an armful of navy and tan colored folders stuffed with papers and sat back on the couch, Alfred stretched his legs out on him again. Alfred had the gall to grin devilishly up at Arthur when the Brit scowled at the action.

The SIS agent grabbed the top folder and dropped it on to the American's chest.

"That's everything SIS has gathered about the targets. Names, D.O.B.s, profiles, everything we could find in the short window of time they gave us before throwing the case at me."

Alfred collected the folder and opened it up, plucking the identification photos from the clipped attachments and examined them, committing the features to memory before setting them aside and starting to read over the information.

"Wang Yao, age unknown, prior criminal activities suspected in including, but not limited to: illegal international cadaver smuggling, transportation and purchase of unauthorized medical equipment, drug possession, drug transportation, kidnapping, torture, and murder…" Alfred trailed off and continued flip through the pages.

"Damn! This guy's got a record a mile long!"

"Correction: he _would_, if only we could catch him. The bastard's managed to evade every strike, raid or arrest we or the Bobbies have ever made against him and his group. We know he deals primarily in China, but he's got a good-sized operation based in London too. Seems he always knows when we're coming."

"You think there's a leak?"

"Maybe, but I suspect it would be among the Bobbies, not us, if there's one at all. Anyway, the first agent we dispatched to weasel into his organization lost contact with us weeks ago."

"You only ever put one asset in?" Alfred asked, narrowing his eyes.

"He's only recent become enough trouble here to warrant our time. From what the Chinese officials will share, he's a menace in his home country, though."

"I think I've seen his name before."

"He's got a base in Detroit. Though it's minor and failing. Seems your people got a decent jump on him before he managed to hunker in."

The CIA agent flashed a cocky smirk and settled in more comfortably.

"Yeah, we're pretty awesome."

The shorter blond groaned in exasperation and picked up another folder and started to leaf through it.

"So, what do they want us to do? I mean, I know they want us to catch the guy in the act, but this really seems like a job for the civilian police, not the combined work of CIA and MI6."

"The Bobbies said they just couldn't handle it and passed it up the ladder. It seems simple enough, which is likely why they are using it as the test run for this international cooperation bullocks."

"Isn't it fun being a guinea pig?" Alfred retorted, his words laced in sarcasm.

"I'm not even sure to start with this. It seems just so simple. You go in with a wire, and bug, pretending to be a buyer and we have him swarmed."

"I like how you volunteer me to go into the possibly fatal situation. Besides, if this guy's managed to avoid MI6 raids and you've already lost one asset, I get the feeling this guy's too good to fall for the oldest decoy trick in the book."

"CIA sent you as 'one of our most valued assets' therefore, you-" He stabbed the American's stomach with his finger, making Alfred giggle. "Will do what you are apparently just so good at." Arthur noted the ticklish reaction, storing that amusing information away, maybe for later use.

"So then, we need a fool-proof method of getting you in."

"I say we see if anyone in his group has loose lips. Getting some inside information would probably be better than throwing me in blind."

"I'm fairly certain that's been tried, according to these reports." Arthur informed him and passed him the police interrogation report papers he'd been reading. The CIA agent looked them over with a fixed stare.

"Well, your cops just don't know how to sweet talk like I do. I'm fairly certain I could cohere someone with a little bit of _persuasion_." Alfred wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Arthur sneered.

"You are absolutely repulsive, American."

"Not what you were thinking last night~" The blue-eyed agent sing-songed and threw his arm up just in time to block Arthur's thrown clipped folder. It fell on to his chest, a few papers slipping free.

"Quit bringing that up!" Arthur grumbled and snatched the folder back, leaning over Alfred's legs.

"Hey that reminds me, if Mrs. Wister made you come back and get me, does that mean you told her about us?"

"Well, in a sense. I left the ugly details out, and why do you continue to refer to the two of us as an item?"

Alfred sighed, trying to make a point to sound annoyed.

"I told you already."

"So? You think I want to date you?"

"Yeah, who wouldn't?" Alfred winked.

"Even if I did, and I don't, it's not permitted between partners."

"I'm only your temporary partner, remember?"

"Touché." Arthur resigned and leaned back into couch cushions.

They lapsed into silence as they each read over and through the files. Alfred set aside a few reports he found might need extra investigation, while Arthur grabbed a pen from the coffee table in front of them an scribbled added notes to the reports Alfred would set aside based on his knowledge of the follow-ups.

All the while, Arthur's mind was in two separate places. One on the task at hand, the other on the dashing American across his lap. Even if the taller was rather promiscuously forward, and slightly annoying and arrogant, Arthur decided he _might_ not mind having Alfred for a partner, mission-wise and personally.

With one hand one Alfred's thigh, he absently rolled his thumb over the course material of the form fitting jeans in slow circles as they wasted the afternoon away going through the hundreds of papers.

By the time Arthur's eyes started to feel dry and sting from reading the tiny printed font on its startlingly white paper it was nearly 4:30 in the afternoon. He stretched and groaned as his back popped loudly and looked down the length of the couch.

Alfred had set his current folder down and shrugged.

"I can't find anything _that_ suspicious. It just looks like a regular illegal dealer in a variety of medical odds and ends. He may be a big fish in China, but he's just another dealer here. No one special."

"It just seems overly simple. It's almost insulting for someone of my caliber."

"Our caliber." Alfred pointed out.

"What ever helps you sleep at night, Jones." The Brit groaned patted the man's knee.

"Up." He commanded and Alfred removed his legs from across the SIS agent's lap again.

Arthur got to his feet and set the folder's aside. Alfred arched his back in a stretch before he sat up when Arthur left the room, heading for the flat's tiny kitchen.

"Whatcha doing?" The taller inquired.

"I don't know about you, but I could use something to eat." Arthur called back from the kitchen.

The CIA agent sprung to his feet and waltzed into the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame.

"I like this idea, Artie. Food makes everything better." Alfred commented as the SIS agent rummaged through his fridge.

"So just what are we eating?" He inquired and Arthur shut the fridge door, empty handed.

"We may be ordering take-away, since I can't recall the last time I cooked or even stocked the fridge." Arthur retorted. "Unless…" he opened the fridge and rummaged through the drawers and pulled out a tinfoil wrapped slab.

"I don't know how old it is, but I'll leave you to try it." He said and handed it over to Alfred who received it with a skeptical look.

"Gee, how thoughtful of you." He mumbled and unwrapped the tinfoil. He was greeted by a very dark, rather shriveled looking piece of, at one point might have been, steak.

"Could be meat-" He sniffed it and crinkled his nose. "Could be cake…? I mean, I'd check the rest of the fridge. It could have eaten your other leftovers." Alfred warned and tossed it in the trash bin beside the sink.

Arthur shrugged.

"I suppose that means we'll just order out. Have anything in mind?"

The blue-eyed agent hummed in thought for a moment.

"Pizza?"

"Very well." Arthur responded and pulled out his phone.

"After this though, we go straight back to the case. I want get out on the streets and start this field investigation tomorrow with proper preparations."

"Sounds good, now dial already and get extra cheese." Alfred demanded as he walked back to the couch and flopped down, lying across the length of the it.

**George Carlin tribute with_Ice__Box__Man_ quotes for Artie's bad leftovers right there to whoever caught it! XD That man is hilarious, go google him!**

**Yep, China is my bad guy. ;)**

**Bwuahahahaa, this will have the same sort of thing like American Trains with other seen Hetalia character appearances, just wait and see. ;)**

**Until next time my lovely readers! Veee~!**


	8. The Port of London

**Risico**

**Chapter 8: The Port of London**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek! :)**

**Welcome back for the 8th installment of Risico. I'm happy to bring you a few more baddies our agents will have the pleasure of having to deal with in time. ;) Also, a little Mattie via text again and some seriously awesome gear for all the victims-err, I mean characters. ;)**

**Reviews:**

**Alphine: I can't picture a normal Arthur, I really can't. Maybe that's why you find him odd, 'cause I make him odd. :P**

**Kay: Naturally. ;) I did plan on giving our villains their chance to have a perspective, actually. I don't know if I'll devote an entire chapter to it, but maybe. ;) Dearie, that's about all I do day's off (the lonely few I get...damn working in retail)!**

**Trumpet-Geek: I think China makes a great bad guy! :3 I'm really not sure why, but something about him just screams "I could be the criminal mastermind and no one could ever stop me, bitches~~!" Lol, don't ask, I'm a bit eccentric like that. ;)**

**Skadiyoko: I must be a bad fan or something! I'd never heard of 'Cardtalia' ever until now. I went and tried to look it up but all I found were a couple neat pictures and nothing else. :( and don't worry. Alfie will get his reality check, I assure you.**

**Renuki: Food poisoning, anyone? xD**

**Scandinavian Norge: Uh, ok? I'll take the good with bad. ;)**

Alfred sprawled out across the couch, thoroughly content with a full stomach. The emptied pizza box lay on the coffee table, open to reveal it's missing contents.

Arthur had already gone to shower after they'd eaten, and the American could hear the drone of the water running softly from behind the shut door of the apartment's single bedroom.

Rummaging into his pocket, the blue-eyed agent pulled out his phone. Hopefully he'd catch Matthew at a good time.

_Alfred: Mattieeeeeeeee~_

_Matthew: You have the worst possible timing. EVER._

_Alfred: Why? :(_

_Matthew: I just walked into a meeting. Literally, my phone vibrated as I walked through the door. XD_

_Alfred: Fuck the meeting! I'm way more important! ;)_

_Matthew: Humble as always. Now what do U want? The boss is glaring at me. :(_

_Alfred: Don't U want to know about me and my partner?_

_Matthew: Yes! Was it dramatic?_

_Alfred: No. :P_

_Matthew: Then I don't wanna know._

_Alfred: Ur a Bitch! ;) It was fine anyway._

_Matthew: And Ur a whore with a badge, ur point? :P_

_Alfred: R U on ur man-period or something? Ur being meaner than usual._

_Matthew: Sorry, I just hate these meetings! U know that. :(_

_Alfred: Doesn't everyone?_

_Matthew: Probably. Anyway, I have some good news for U._

_Alfred: O rly?_

_Matthew: Al… -_-_

_Alfred: Sorry!_

_Matthew: Well the good news is that Ur car should have arrived at the docks by now._

_Alfred: Yay! It's about damn time. :D Didn't CIA ship it ahead of me?_

_Matthew: They did, but U know how these things work. Things get lost, or have to go through customs and all that other BS._

_Alfred: If anyone has touched my car, theyr going to die._

_Matthew: We shipped it via cargo, so no ones touched it. The higher-ups packed it with some stuff too._

_Alfred: What kinda stuff?_

_Matthew: Stuff I'll probably get in trouble for if it goes on record with this text._

_Alfred: Oh. Right. ;)_

_Matthew: Ok. Boss is threatening to pitch my phone out the window. I gotta go. Call me if theres a problem collecting ur car. The company's agent should be there with the boat. Name's Kiku Honda at POL and everything should be paid._

_Alfred: Alright, have fun at the meeting. ;)_

_Matthew: Hell no! Bye._

_Alfred: See ya._

Alfred tucked his phone back in his pocket with a giddy feeling in his stomach. He looked to the bedroom door as the water shut off. He wished Arthur would hurry up. He wanted to get down to the Port of London as soon as possible.

The moment Arthur stepped out from the bedroom door with only a clean white shirt and boxers on, The CIA agent pushed himself off the couch with an ear-to-ear grin at the Brit.

"What are you so cheery about?" The shorter inquired with suspicion.

"Go put some pants on. My car just arrived at the Port."

"Alfred, it's nearly 6 'o clock! I'm not driving all the way out there just for pick ups to be closed by the time we arrive."

"We'd make it with plenty of time if you'd just go put some pants on!" Alfred argued with a soft laugh as he slipped his shoes on. The SIS agent grumbled but went to comply and returned with a pair of denims adorning his legs and a black, thin collared shirt over his torso.

Alfred was already at the door. He'd collected his gun, Customs papers and badge and was jittering about the entrance.

"C'mon, old man!" The taller called.

Arthur took his sweet time strutting to the door just to annoy his eager companion.

"What is the hurry, you damned twit? It' not going anywhere, just so you know."

"So! I want my car back!" Alfred explained as he took the stairs down to the ground floor two at a time. Naturally, the emerald-eyed agent followed at a more leisurely pace, which clearly annoyed the American even further.

"Speaking of cars." Arthur started as he bounced airily on the final step and followed the taller blond out to his Astra. "You owe me for that dent you put in the bonnet."

"…the fuck?" Alfred arched a brow as he slid into the passenger side.

"The front end of the bloody car!" The Brit growled back as he got in and started the engine.

"It's called a 'hood.'"

Arthur shook his head and loosed an exasperated sigh as he pulled into the street, heading for the Port of London.

When they arrived, Alfred stepped from the car and looked back at the SIS agent.

"It shouldn't take long. I'll be right back." The Brit nodded and leaned back in his seat after rolling down the windows and turning the Astra off. Alfred collected all his papers, shut the door and walked up to the gates.

Walking up to the security booth he inquired of newest US arrival ship to which the guard in turn directed him to the sight of a crane unloading multi-colored cargo containers and stacking them in formation.

Alfred thanked the man and walked past various rows of warehouses and Port workers walking about.

While the sky was darkened, the ample flood lights of marina hummed with blinding energy pouring down on to the blacktop and gave the American plenty of light to see by.

He milled about the area until he spotted a slight man in a clean white suit with an electronic clipboard in hand, walking from container to container.

"Excuse me, sir!" Alfred called to the man and the white clad Port agent looked to him with large, coal black eyes.

"Yes, how can I herp you?" He inquired politely and Alfred comically noted the man seemed to have trouble with the 'l' in 'help.'

Naturally, the friendly agent extended his hand in greeting.

"Hey, name's Alfred Jones. I'm looking for Kiku Honda. You guys should have just gotten a shipment from America, right?"

"I am Kiku Honda. A preasure to meet you." He responded and tentatively shook Alfred's hand. "You are correct. I received a call from a Matthew Wirriams about you arriving."

The shorter man looked down at his clipboard, skimming through various names and container numbers before finding Alfred's and beckoning the blond agent to follow.

"Forrow me, please. You have titre papers and Customs agreements, correct?"

"I do." He responded, fished out the papers and handed them to Kiku who scanned them over and verified them on the clipboard as they walked. He handed the papers back along with another slip of document paper.

"Prease keep that for records keeping."

The CIA agent did so, tucking it in his pocket as Kiku lead them through a maze of stacked containers until arriving at a light blue one. Kiku checked the numbers again and verified it before walking up to the digital lock pad and punching in a long string of digits.

The lock clicked and the white clad man knelt to pull open the rolling door. The floodlights of the darkening dock left enough light for Alfred to see the glimmering front end of his beloved 2009 model graphite-colored corvette as it was revealed.

He grinned and walked into the container with Kiku.

"This is your shipment, correct?"

"Yes she is." Alfred murmured in return and skimmed his fingers against the sleek side of his cherished vehicle.

"Excerrent. I'rr just need you to sign this then, agreeing that you've received the shipment and are no ronger under the protection of our marine insurance." Kiku offered the electronic clipboard and stylus to Alfred who quickly glanced over it and signed before handing it back to the company agent.

The car was left unlocked with the keys on the dashboard and so Alfred climbed into the driver's seat. As he settled in to the familiar leather interior he sighed happily. It had only been a about week since he'd had the car shipped, but he'd rather missed it.

Just before he started the car, a thought crossed his mind. While he was already out, he might as well start trying to collect some information on the mission target.

"Kiku, uh, do you mind if I just call you that?"

"You may." Said man responded, looking down at the agent in the car.

"You mind if I ask you some questions. You happen to know a man named Wang Yao?"

Kiku's once typical friendly appearance transitioned to a cold, apathetic look and Alfred felt himself tense.

"I do, but it is wisest to not mention his name."

If that wasn't suspicious, Alfred didn't know what was, then and his natural curious agent instincts kicked in.

"Why's that?"

"It is merery for your safety, Mr. Jones."

"I'm not too worried about my safety, Kiku." The agent responded and pulled his CIA badge from his belt, flashing it to Kiku, who looked unimpressed.

"Kiku, I'm with CIA, and I'd really appreciate it if you told me everything you know about Wang Yao." While it may have been a request from anyone else, it was a demand with Alfred's tone as locked eyes with the Japanese man.

"I think it is best if you reave now, Mr. Jones." The dark-eyed man responded ominously and went back to observing the information on his clipboard.

"Withholding information can be a criminal offense, y'know?" Alfred prodded again. There was defiantly something suspicious about the Port agent. He clearly knew something and Alfred planned on finding out just what.

"So is murder, Mr. Jones." Kiku responded and pushed back part of the top of his suit to reveal a massive Smith and Wessen model 500 revolver resting at his hip. "Now, prease reave."

Alfred slipped his badge away, inserted the key and started the car. The distinctive rumbled of the engine sounded and Alfred set it in drive to let the car roll out of the container. When the front wheels bounced to the ground, the CIA agent pushed on the throttle to drive away.

He looked up in the rearview mirror to see Kiku watching him from the container entrance and the American sighed as he navigated the maze of the tall shipping blocks.

That certainly hadn't gone well, and the agent hadn't gotten any answers. His suspicions rose though. Clearly Kiku had known something about Wang Yao, but the agent wasn't about to take a .50 caliber bullet from the near literal hand-cannon the Port agent had with him for only a hunch. He'd find more friendly information elsewhere.

As the blue-eyed agent drove away in his corvette and out of sight, the Japanese Port agent pulled out his cell phone and dialed the familiar number of his boss.

It rang twice before the line picked up and a gruff, mumbling voice answered.

"Hej?"

"I need to speak with Yao."

"H' 's b'sy."

"Inform him that it's urgent, Mr. Oxenstierna."

"'Ll j'st tr'nsf'r yo' th'n."

"Thank you." Kiku waited patiently as the phone was set down and the line clicked in transfer.

"Wèi?"

"Yao? It's Kiku."

"Yes, Berwald thought to inform me of that. Just what is so important?"

"I think the CIA may be here for us."

"What makes you say that?" Came the Chinese man's response after a short pause.

"An 'agent Jones' just stopped by the Port to pick up his car. I noted some briefcases in the hatch of his vehicle as well. He asked about you."

"I guess the Americans just weren't satisfied with Detroit. You sent him away unsatisfied, right?"

Kiku chuckled.

"Of course."

"Good. I'll inform Berwald and Mathias of this information and have them pass it along to the rest of the peons. Also, has the US shipment arrived?"

"Yes sir. Shall I have Mr. Beilschmidt come collect the cargo?"

"Yes, have him transfer it from the marina docks to warehouse B19. We haven't used that one in quite some time."

"Very well. Have a good night, sir."

"Zàijiàn, Kiku."

The line clicked off and Kiku started to dial yet another familiar number as he exited the empty container and walked back into the shipping block labyrinth.

**If there's one way to successfully smuggle, it's controlling the ports, and guess who has Kiku and the Port of London in their back pocket? ) Hehehe.**

**Also, yeah that was Berwald who answered. I don't know about you people but I think having Denmark and Sweden as personal assistants/bodyguards would be awesome. Honestly if I saw those two for hire as guards and I'd snap them up in a heartbeat. :3**

**Translations: (by the way, they're phonetically done and will continue to be. I can't type Chinese characters, sadly. :P)**

**Hej? (Swedish) = Hello?**

**Wèi? (Chinese) = Hello?**

**Zàijiàn (Chinese) = Goodbye**

**Why give Alfie such a lovely car? Well two reasons. 1.) His ego warrants a car to match. He's the muscle car type and a Mustang was just too cliche for me! Vettes rock anyway! 2.) A tribute to my grandma who actually has helped me with both my fics. She's the one who's helped me determine the ending of American Trains and of future events in Risico. The model corvette Alfie has is my Grandmother's car to a T. Yes, be jealous, my nearly 72 year old grandma helps me write fanfics and drives a corvette. ;) How many people can say that, huh?**

**Anywho, I have bad news...**

**I'm starting school again Tuesday (the 23rd) and still keeping my retail job (my bmw doesn't pay for itself, y'know! :( ). I've calculated the time (yes, I'm that big of a loser) and between going to school until 3, still having to drive home and going in to work at 4:30 almost everyday leaves me an hour, maybe less each day to myself (depends on traffic). That's also not including homework. Sorry guys, but an hour a day? Shit, I'm gonna want to chill, not type or think of plot. These updates are defiantly not going to come like they used to. Maybe 1 to 2 a week on my days off. =/**

**The stories will go on, I don't plan on stopping, only slowing down the high speed train. ;)**

**Until next time then! Veee~!**


	9. Plans

**Risico**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek! :)**

**Chapter 9: Plans**

**A/N: Haha, yay! Finally with American Trains done, I've started Risico back up! :) Sorry for the wait boys and girls!**

**This chapter is just fillery, but it'll get much better from here on out. Hehehe.**

**Reviews:**

**Kay: I know! I love my grammy! xD**

**Trumpet-Geek: The character relations are all part of my master plan mwuahahaha. :3**

**Alphine: Badly. Very badly. :P**

**Inkaugneato: I thought about it, then went 'naw, I love the car too much.'**

**Renuki: Mhhhmmm, I love Alfie loves his Vette.**

**Ninja Ris: WRONG! The Swede is mine! I might share Denmark...maybe... *leers* Lol, yes more smut to come, eventually. Heheh.**

**S. Norge: Yes, Kiku with Yao. I'm truly devious. ;) Busy? Si, veeerrrrrrryyyyyyyyy busy. :P**

**Skadiyoko: Not this Dane. ;)**

**denise134: Lol, thanks? Sorry, but I'm keeping my grandma, thanks.**

**aerrow4eva: !Que lastima! It's shame corvette's don't have back seats. ;)**

**artfan: Well, when your Alfie, flashing your badge is the obvious thing to do to let the baddies know who you are. xD**

**Still bypasser: May be more of that too come. ;)**

**Inkaugneato: Aww, sad is what I aim for. ;)**

**blackcat: It's actually perfectly legal to drive an imported American car in GB. It sure is a pain in the arse to drive, but corvettes are muscle cars, so they're smaller and sleeker. They'd fit, but would probably hug the lanes pretty closely. Now an F-150 might have some serious problems. Lol.**

Arthur drummed his fingers on the wheel of the Astra absently while his clear, green eyes watched the marina entrance, impatiently searching for the CIA agent. He loosed an exasperated sigh and leaned back against the supple seat, silently cursing the American for keeping him waiting.

Finally a set of low set headlights burned brightly as they passed through the gates and a sleek, graphite corvette pulled up beside the Astra.

The Brit scoffed, why was he not surprised that the flashy, cocky American had a car to match his ego?

When Alfred rolled down the vehicle's window and flashed him a sly grin, the Englishman sneered, restarting the car without looking to his new partner.

"Artie, we gotta talk."

"I don't want to hear you boast." Arthur returned.

"I mean it."

"Then let's hear it."

"Not here. Let's just get back to the flat."

The emerald-eyed man finally turned his gaze to the American.

While Alfred was still smiling, Arthur had noticed an underlying tone of urgency lacing the other agent's voice. He merely nodded, twisting to back the Astra out of the lot and pulled out to the main road.

Something was clearly bothering the American, and in turn it gnawed at Arthur. He'd most definitely heard some sort of concern in his partner's voice. His eyes flicked to glance at the review mirror, where he could see the corvette's low set and brightly burning headlights just behind him.

_I'll find out soon enough, I suppose._

The drive back to Arthur's flat was nerve-racking for Alfred. He constantly found himself momentarily panicking at every turn, the natural feel of going the right way completely thrown out the proverbial door as he drove on 'wrong' side of the road.

Not to mention the small fact that he'd only been threatened by a port worker with a near literal hand cannon. It didn't sit well in his stomach as he drove behind Arthur.

The drive wasn't terribly long, but it seemed it until Arthur pulled off the road and parked the Astra. The CIA agent mirrored him, and nudged the corvette into the space behind the SIS agent's car.

He cut the engine off and exited the car, shutting the door lightly behind him and stuffed the keys in his pocket.

When he glanced up, Arthur was leaning against the Astra with his arms crossed in front of him and wearing a suspicious look.

"What's the rush about, lad?"

"Inside." Alfred motioned to the building beside them. Arthur looked as if he might argue that, but then he shook his head. He headed toward the building while Alfred pulled the two black briefcases the Agency had placed in the hatch for him. He shut it with some fumbling, then followed after Arthur's quick strides into the building.

Once safely inside their flat and Arthur had locked the door the Brit returned his questioning look to Alfred.

The taller blond sighed before sitting down on the touch, distractedly running his fingers through his hair. He stared down at the coffee table that complimented the couch.

"Well?" Arthur challenged the American's silence.

"I think there's defiantly something up with the Port."

The Brit knitted his brows and moved to sit beside Alfred. He noted, but didn't mention, that Alfred inched a bit closer to the other blond when he did sit. He doubted the American noticed it himself, for he seemed rather distractedly deep within his thoughts.

"Care to explain?" Arthur offered.

"When I tried to ask one of the port workers about Yao, he clamed up. When I tried to get him to talk, he flashed a .50 caliber at me and told me I should leave. Arthur, who the Hell does that unless they've got something to hide behind that threat?" He inquired aloud, and turned his blue gaze on the Brit beside him.

Said man's eyes were a bit wider than usual. He wondered the same thing himself, but said nothing. He slowly shook his head.

Alfred leaned his shoulder against the emerald-eyed man with a curious look on his visage.

Arthur made a soft noise in his throat and threw the American a half-hearted glare down at him, but didn't mind the slight extra weight and warmth.

"Well, it's _your_country and _your_ port. What'd you think we should do?" Alfred asked after a few moments of silence lapsed between them.

"I don't know, however, we need to start documenting this. I doubt our respective agencies are going to care about our hunches if we don't having anything to show them."

The taller laughed, but didn't move from the Brit's shoulder.

"How about we do that tomorrow?"

Arthur glanced to the cable box that sat beside his television. It was rather late, and the American on his shoulder was likely suffering from jetlag as well as general daily exhaustion. He supposed putting it off for the night wouldn't be too unreasonable.

"Very well." Arthur resigned and shifted off the couch, and Alfred moved aside so as not to slip forward when the Brit left him.

The American flashed a grin.

"Awesome. I'm way too tired to even write up a proper documentation anyway."

"Yes, yes, I get it. I'm going to call my boss and let her know about this before I get to bed. There are extra sheets and pillow in the hall closet over there,"

He pointed off somewhere and Alfred glanced back, not really paying that much attention.

"Just don't bother me and stay in the main room, would you? I might mistake your for a robber if you chose to go wandering around my home in the middle of night. I'd rather not have to shoot you, after all."

Nodding, Alfred kicked off his shoes and tucked them under the coffee table while Arthur wandered into his bedroom and began dialing Mrs. Ashdown's familiar number.

He didn't speak with Evie all that long. The older woman had answered after the second ring and assumed a professional tone, as always.

"Good evening, agent Kirkland."

"Yes, good evening, Evie."

A sigh on the other end of the line, and Arthur felt his lips twitch in a smirk.

"What can I do for you, Arthur? It's dreadfully late, you know."

"I apologize for that, but I thought it best to inform you now."

"Very well. Go on."

"Alfred-"

"_You__mean__the__American__agent,__correct?"_

"Yes, him. He thinks that the Port of London's workers might have some connection to our targets."

"_Does__he__have__any__proof__of__this?"_

"He said one of the workers refused to talk when he was questioned and asked him to leave after showing him his gun."

"_That's__certainly__suspicious,__now__isn't__it?"_

"I thought so, as well."

_"Thank you for informing me of this. Make sure you document it and I'll be sure to have it looked in to. We can discuss this further tomorrow."_

"Thank you, Evie. Sorry for the late call, and have a good night."

"_You__as__well,__Arthur.__Be__careful."_

The line clicked and Arthur pulled the phone from his ear. He placed it down on the bedside nightstand and sighed. He sat on the foot of the bed, listening to the sound of Alfred shuffling around his apartment, probably looking for that aforementioned linen closet.

Eventually, the CIA agent's noise died down at Arthur laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his arms folded under his head.

It didn't take long for sleep to claim him, and the Brit rolled to his side, not even bothering to strip off any of the day's attire.

Across London, away from the Port, but still within reasonable distance of the Thames, a set of Yao's formal bodyguards gathered around the alley-side of a modern warehouse.

The tallest of them, Berwald, grunted as the glare of yellow, watery headlights flashed around the alley corner. A sleek, black Audi Cabriolet rolled into the alley, and Berwald stepped up to meet the driver rolling down the window.

A pair of brilliant blue orbs met Berwald's narrowed ceruleans.

"Wh're's Gilb'rt?" The big Swede inquired, eyes glittering with suspicion. Behind him, his two companions unhitched themselves from the alley wall, stepping up on the opposite side of the car, surrounding it.

The blond in the car matched Berwald's natural leer with a confident aloofness.

"My brother couldn't come in person. He's tying up loose ends before Yao sends him off to salvage the Detroit operation." The somber blond said in a steady voice.

Berwald nodded coolly, then glanced up at the two shorter men on the other side.

"Gr'b the st'ff." He ordered.

The man sitting in the car cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

"Who are they? I have not seen them before."

"Yo' h've not seen m'ny 'f us. Th't' 's the po'nt."

"This is true. Gilbert says such things often. Still…" He trailed off, glancing back at the two pulling out the clamped, silver suitcases from the trunk.

"Th'y're lik' me. D'n't w'rry yo'self w'th it. G' h'me, L'dwig." The Swede ordered, unhitching himself from the driver side door, motioning for his two companions to load the suitcases in his own dark blue suburban parked in the darkest corner of the alley.

Ludwig swallowed hard, thinking of questioning the towering Swede further, but changed his mind and shifted the car into reverse.

"Kiku gives his regards." He turned and backed out the alley, entering traffic and vanishing down the road. Berwald merely nodded before the man vanished from sight.

"T'no, N'rge, we're leaving." The tall blond announced while pulling his cellphone from his pocket and dialed their boss' number.

Both of the shorter men got into the car. The violet-eyed man called Tino sat down in the passenger seat, while his aloof companion settled in the back with the suitcases, one leg crossed over his knee and arms folded before his chest.

"Hey, Norge?" Tino glanced back at the other.

Norge simply blinked his stormy-blue eyes once, staring blankly at Tino. The Fin took that as permission to continue.

"Do you think Yao will send us to Detroit, too?"

"No."

"Oh…" Tino paused, his brows furrowing. "I think I'd like to go to America, though."

"I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"I prefer here or home."

"Yeah. I miss Espoo. Still I'd like to visit America. I've never been across the Atlantic, you know! It would be nice if Yao let us go home for Christmas, too."

"He won't."

Tino sighed and sunk farther back into the seat. The Norwegian could be such a downer.

Berwald opened the driver side door then, and slipped into the suburban. The bright-eyed Fin perked up, dismissing his dull conversation with Norge.

"What did Yao have to say?"

"The usu'l." Berwald answered coldly as he started the vehicle and pulled out of the alley.

The violet-eyed man loosed a defeated sigh with the apparent lack of desire to converse not present in either of his companions. The tall Swede took notice though, and as they stopped for a red light, he playfully jabbed his finger in Tino's side, causing the Fin to giggle.

"Yao w'nts 's to d'liv'r the c'ses d'r'ctly t' the w'reho'se."

The Fin looked at him curiously, absently rubbing where Berwald had poked him.

"He doesn't want make sure they're what he ordered?"

"S'ems n't."

"That's odd." Norge chimed in, leaning forward between the passenger and driver's seats.

"Yeah…"

"Yao m'y b' un'asy k'ep'ng the c'ases m'v'ng too l'ng."

"True." Norge simply stated and sat back in his seat, casting his stormy gaze to the traffic outside the tinted window.

"He's uneasy because of the CIA agent at the Port?"

Berwald nodded.

"Are you?"

The Swede knitted his brows. Turning a corner, he formulated his response to the violet-eyed man beside him.

"I h've a b'd fe'l'ng abo't it."

"Mathias said it was 'no big deal.'"

"H' t'kes n'th'ng s'r'ously."

Nodding was Tino's only answer as they pulled up to the long line of warehouses. As the three exited the car and collected the suitcases, Tino couldn't help but feel a certain nervous apprehension knotting his stomach. Vaguely, he wondered about what Yao would do about the American agency currently watching them.

They'd avoided the Metropolitan with ease, and though the SIS made it difficult, they'd avoided them as well. Now they had to worry about the CIA? Tino hoped Yao knew just what he was doing as he passed a heavier case to Berwald and continued his work.

**Suck-ish chapter, I just needed to introduce Tino and Norge, really, and set up the start of an actual plot conflict. Lol :P**


	10. The Boss

**Risico**

**Chapter 10: The Boss**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek! :)**

**Ah yes, I feel great still being in the swing of writing! I've missed this story! A LOT!**

**Alright, relatively not so actiony chapter. Still introducing and setting things up, but I did add some foreshadowing. ;)**

**Reviews:**

**denise134: No worries. ;)**

**Trumpet-Geek: Speaking of Beta, I sent you up to ch 4. ;)**

**Lady Skorpio: Yep, she does! And no, she's mine. Back off grandma thieves. ;) Mattie will be here soon. I don't think we'll be seeing dear Francis though. ;)**

**aerrow4eva: yay for Nordics! :D**

**Blackcat: Lol, he was just agonizing over his baby. ;) Ahhh, an agent and his car! :P Classic!**

**ilovesmilingfools: (I love your name) Everyone ought to fear the Americans. :3 Bwuahahaha**

**Kay: You'll have to pretend with your double agent. I could write a whole other fic if I added any more stuff to this bloated plot line xD**

**Kraut: Drama here we come~! :D**

Arthur woke to a soft noise. He blinked his sleep heavy eyes and sat up, only to meet Alfred's bright, glass-blue orbs peering at him from the doorway.

"American?" The Brit grumbled, still lethargic.

"I really prefer 'Alfred,' or 'Hero,' or 'Awesome,' but sure, 'American' works."

"Oh shut up!" Arthur groaned and lazily tossed a pillow at the intruder. It missed by a mile, but made Alfred chuckle. The taller walked over to the big mattress and crawled over to Arthur's side, wearing a sunny grin.

Arthur glared up at him.

"It's too early to be happy." He complained and buried his face into another pillow.

The CIA agent shrugged and lay down on his belly beside the Brit.

"Why are you in here, Jones? Didn't I tell you to stay in the main room?" The pillow muffled Arthur's words, but the agitation was clear in his tone.

"You did, but I couldn't sleep out there. Your couch is really lumpy and just plain uncomfortable."

"I rather like that couch."

"I like this bed more."

Arthur rolled on to his side to glare death at the American splayed lazily on his belly.

"Get out of my bed. I didn't invite you up here anyway."

"Oh c'mon! Please, Artie?"

"No! Get the bloody fuck out of my bed, you twit!"

"I'll make it worth your while…" Alfred offered, a seductive smile splitting his face. He rose up on his hands and knees, hovering over Arthur. The Brit swallowed and shook his head. Damn that stupid, cheeky, sexy grin. He'd be strong and resist though.

"No! Get out! I don't like you in my bed, or my room or even my flat for that matter!"

"Oh, you shouldn't mind." The American agent responded huskily, leaning to bring his lips to the Brit's.

The shorter shuddered at the feel of his partner's lips barely brushing his skin, but kissed back readily.

"Awfully earlier for this, wouldn't you say?" Arthur inquired with a smug grin on his lips after the slow kiss.

"No such thing as bad timing for this." Alfred countered then licked the Brit's jaw line.

"What the Hell do they feed you CIA lads for this kind of libido?" Arthur rolled his eyes, but didn't object to Alfred's hands as they began roam down his throat, teasing down to his collar.

"That's classified." The blue-eyed blond loomed over Arthur, and winked down at him. The Englishman scoffed.

His face turned a burning red as the man above him moved to straddle his hips, pressing the shorter to the mattress.

"I wasn't being serious, you git! Get off! I'm not having sex with you at-" He glanced at his digital clock, then glared back to Alfred, "at two 'o clock in the morning! I have to go to work and so do you! I need sleep!"

"Sex? Maybe I just wanted to make out! But don't worry, doll, I can be quick if you want."

"Call me that again, and I will put a bullet in your head, agent Jones." Arthur growled back and tried to wriggle from under Alfred.

The American pressed his superior weight down, pinning Arthur. He put his lips to the Brit's ear, enjoying the shiver that overtook his partner's body when he breathed hotly against the pliable skin.

"I'm sorry, Artie." He whispered low, not really meaning it.

"That one as well! My name is Arthur!"

"Well then, _Arthur_," He over enunciated each syllable of his companion's name, "how about we get back to business?" Alfred kissed his temple gently, continuing down to his throat.

"Alfred…" The Brit trailed off, finding his resistance weakening with every butterfly kiss the American place down his jaw and neck. He shut his eyes, sighing lightly.

"Like I said, I can be quick and-"

"No." Arthur interjected, grabbing Alfred's collar and pulling him down into a long, heated kiss.

Alfred cocked a brow when they finally broke apart.

"I thought you said no?"

"No to the sex. I'm not in the mood."

"But you don't mind making-out?"

"It's agreeable, for now."

"I knew you wouldn't mind." He beamed cockily.

Arthur rolled his eyes as a terrible scarlet blush further deepened the color on his cheeks.

"What in the world possessed you to come in here and seduce me anyway?" The Brit asked and looped his arms around Alfred's neck, pulling him down to press their clothed bodies together.

The CIA agent didn't respond other than a soft growl. He returned to attacking the Brit's throat and chest, tugging the smaller's shirt off.

Arthur furrowed his brows.

"Alfred, I said no."

Still the blue-eyed blond refused to speak: instead he licked, kissed and caressed his way down Arthur's body.

Growing frustrated, Arthur bucked up, throwing his weight to roll them both onto their sides. He grabbed the American's upper arm, meeting the other's eyes thoughtfully. Alfred diverted his gaze, further annoying Arthur.

"Why aren't you answering me, git?"

Alfred made a soft noise in the back of his throat and shrugged.

The Englishman sighed in exasperation. He leaned a little closer to the brooding American and kissed his cheek softly. Alfred's eyes went wide and finally met the emerald orbs beside him.

"What's wrong? You've not been yourself since we went to the Port."

"How would you know? You've known me for what, two days?"

"Your point? You certainly haven't been shy about your personality. Besides, it's part of my job to know people."

Alfred huffed and didn't respond to that.

"What's eating you?" Arthur prodded again, cupping the American's cheek. His thumb traced the smooth, heated skin. Vaguely, he wondered why he was being so abnormally gentle with Alfred. Normally, he would have been agitated and harsh, but something about the perky boy's current demeanor had tamed his typical bad mood. Or maybe he was just too tired from being awoken at two in the morning to be bitter?

"I don't know. I just…" Alfred trailed off and shrugged again.

"You what?"

"I have this really bad feeling. Like something terrible is going to happen."

"And you thought seducing me would make it go away?" Arthur inquired with a cocked brow.

"I don't know… I guess I figured, if something bad were to happen you or me, then…" He cut off and rose up on his arm, pushing away from Arthur.

"Sorry, Artie. I didn't mean to wake you." He said and went to the door.

"Alfred, wait. Come back." Arthur tried, sitting up and beckoning the American back to him.

"I know my gut, Artie. Something bad's gonna go down. Don't try to tell me otherwise, 'cause-"

"I believe you." Arthur said, crossing his legs.

Alfred paused, knitting his brows in suspicion.

"You do?"

The Brit simply nodded and patted the space beside him on the bed. Reluctantly, the blue-eyed agent sat back down on the bed.

"Why?"

"Your instincts are just as valuable as your knowledge. Knowledge takes time, but your instincts are always sharp and ready. They've saved my life many times in this line of work. Going against them doesn't usually end well for us."

Alfred chuckled.

"Could you convince my boss of that? I wish he'd get off my case about me being 'rash' and 'impulsive.'"

"Well now, those are completely separate. I'm sure you've done rather stupid things before."

"'Cause my gut told me to."

"And it's all worked out in the end, hasn't it?"

"Well, yeah..."

"So there you have it. Follow your instincts, Alfred. Tomorrow, or today rather, Evie, my boss, is going to talk with us about the Port. You might want to bring up your 'bad feeling' to her. She was an excellent agent in her younger days. She'll understand."

The CIA agent nodded.

"Okay," He sighed, leaning his head on Arthur's shoulder, "thanks."

The Brit sighed, bringing his arm around the American's broad shoulders in a comforting gesture. He wondered just how he'd gone from bored, partner-less agent, to intimate lover, to personal therapist in less than forty-eight hours.

"Alright. I've coddled you, now go back to sleep." The Brit teased in good nature, to which Alfred laughed and nuzzled his companion's shoulder.

"Alright, fine." He lay himself down on the bed, smiling lightly up at Arthur. The Englishman gave a half-hearted glare.

"I didn't mean in my bed."

"Please? I wasn't lying, that couch really is terrible!" He pleaded.

Arthur looked up to the ceiling, and grumbled something before lying down on the bed beside his partner. He was too tired to argue now and Alfred really wasn't doing any harm just lying there, was he?

Alfred grinned hugely and looped his arm around the emerald-eyed man's waist, pressing close to him.

"Oh, and sorry for teasing you earlier. We could still…"

"Alfred, shut up and go to sleep. There will be no shagging at this ungodly hour. I still don't understand your actions at all anyway."

"It's pretty easy to forget a bad feeling when you can forget it with someone."

"If you mean that like I think you do, then that is a terrible way of thinking!"

"Maybe, but it works."

"But for how long?"

"Well-"

"Oh, never mind! Just go to sleep! We'll talk about this rubbish later."

The American giggled softly, then plucked his glasses from his face, leaning over Arthur to set them on the nightstand before settling in to sleep the last few hours of the morning away with his partner.

~^Risico^~

When morning came, Arthur found himself alone. He furrowed his brows, reaching his hand over to pat the cooling pillow beside him.

"Alfred?"

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up."

The SIS agent rolled over, propping on his elbows to be greeted by his partner standing at the foot of his bed with nothing but a pale green towel about his waist. The taller's hair was still dripping water on to his shoulders.

"I don't recall giving you permission to use my shower."

"I figured it was a given, y'know, since I'm only living here too. Besides, I realized I still smelled like booze and sex. I don't think that's the best way to walk into work."

Arthur merely nodded as he rose off the bed.

"So long as you left some hot water, I suppose I'll over-look it."

"Actually, I did. Just for you." The American chimed, sidestepping to allow his companion into the steam-fogged bathroom.

"Go dress into something appropriate." Arthur ordered before shutting the bathroom door to shower in privacy.

Alfred rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath.

"Like I'd walk into the MI6 building in a towel!" He groaned to skyward in exasperation before going out to the main room to rummage through his duffel bag to find his good clothes.

~^Risico^~

Checking in with Scott the guard, Alfred once again surrendered his gun. They took the elevator to the sixth floor: both were showered and dressed crisply.

"Now since Evie wants to speak directly to you about this I can only assume she has taken your suspicion seriously." Arthur started.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"If she plans on getting any of the higher ups involved."

"Why? You have trouble with your bosses too?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Arthur retorted as the door of the elevator slid opened.

They crossed the floor to Mrs. Ashdown's office. The sly former agent was just locking her office when the blonds approached.

"Good morning, gentlemen."

"Hey there, Arthur's boss!" Alfred chimed.

The woman chuckled.

"It's Ashdown, Evie Ashdown."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Ashdown." Alfred extended his hand and shook Evie's.

"Yes, a pleasure. Now then, I hope you both read that today would be your first scheduled meeting to discuss the case. Everyone has already assembled in the third auditorium. They're just waiting on us and the Director."

Alfred glanced sidelong at Arthur. He didn't recall having a meeting scheduled today. The Brit could only offer an apologetic shrug. Obviously he hadn't known either.

"Neither of you read the meeting schedules in your assignment folders, did you?" Evie asked, starting to walk towards the elevators. The agents followed with guilty looks on their visages. They didn't need to answer, it was all very clear to the sly woman.

"Well, I certainly hope you shed off this shaky start and tighten up. Even if this is only a trial case, the CIA and the higher ups are taking it very seriously." She glared sternly at them both as they entered the elevator.

"Do not mess this up, lads."

"Yes, ma'am." They both mumbled in unison, still glancing at each other.

Evie continued to speak as the elevator took them a few floors up.

"I don't recommend bringing up what I spoke on the phone to Arthur about. No need to alarm them just yet. We'll speak on it privately." She said to Alfred.

He merely nodded to confirm. When the elevator doors slid open, they exited, following Evie to the heavy panic doors that marked the entrance to the auditorium.

Alfred walked ahead, pushing the door open with the intent to politely hold it open for Evie, and maybe Arthur, too, if he was feeling generous.

When the door swung open, he heard a solid thump and a pained yelp.

"Shit! I'm so sorry about that!" Alfred exclaimed, seeing that he'd hit a sharply dressed man standing on the other side of the door.

"Bloody Hell, man! Be careful with that!" The victim said rubbing his forehead where the door had struck him. He wore a grin though, and his words held no resentment, much to Alfred's relief.

The American looked over the man. He was average height and build, in a blue suit and he had extremely prominent eyebrows. He looked a lot like Arthur, actually. He looked to Arthur when the Brit coughed obviously.

"Congratulations, you twit, you just managed to assault Director Peter with the door." Arthur sneered out bitterly.

"Director?" Alfred rounded on the other man.

"Yes, Director. I just so happen to be in charge of our relationship with the American intelligence agencies, and other intelligences branches around the world." He held out his hand, which Alfred shook numbly. He'd really just whacked his new boss with the door. This morning just wasn't working out.

"You must be agent Jones?"

"That's me. I'm really sorry about the door, by the way."

Peter waved it off casually.

"Think nothing of it, mate. Now then, I think it's best if we got this meeting started, wouldn't you agree?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Alfred nodded, wearing a quirky grin. Evie chuckled and walked past her agents to stand beside Peter.

"Come along, lads." She beckoned, walking beside the Director to assimilate with the other officials waiting in the auditorium.

"You're are the luckiest bustard alive, American." Arthur muttered as he walked beside Alfred. "If I had done that, Evie would have had me doing entry-level paperwork for a week."

"She likes me. It's the Jones charm at work. No man or woman is immune." Alfred flaunted, grinning hugely at his emerald-eyed partner.

"Shut it! Let's just get this over with." Arthur grumbled as they melded into the crowd and waited for Peter to call the meeting to order.

**Adult!Sealand, anybody? xD**

**Ahh, sorry to tease you all in the beginning. No smexy times yet. Official agent business comes first. :P**


	11. Hearts and Hope

**Risico**

**Chapter 11: Hearts and Hope**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek! :)**

**Ahh, pre-climactic chapter. Suspense! I'm here to overuse it! :P I love how everyone is dying over Peter, too. I had no idea he'd be such a favorite! Lol, I just need another remotely British-y char, since I didn't want to make a whole new important OC. xD**

**Reviews:**

**denise134: I'm sorry, dear! :P Hehe**

**Renuki: Naturally, it will. ;)**

**ilovesmilingfools: ^^ I think I get a new highscore for that one!**

**Lady Skorpio: Cliffies are my little loves! :D**

**Kay: Awww, don't worry. I thought of my favorite, faithful chestnut too. ;)**

**Trumpet-Geek: Eyebrows are hot. ;) That's got to be it.**

**aerrow4eva: Smexy times for later, dear. ;)**

**artfan: Yep, bad. And when I say bad...well... Hehehe**

**Inkaugneato: xD Maybe...?**

**Funky Bracelet Chick: I apologize about your mind. :P**

**Ash-Animex2: I'm full of surprises!**

**Blackcat: I am a tease. So sorry! :P**

**Bella: (You're just Bella now. Too many 'X's for me! lol) Wow, Peter is a total fav!**

**Ninja Ris: The smut went left. ;) And no. Sweden is mine. End of discussion. o_0**

**Kraut: Haha, Alfie never loses, and Artie hates losing. ;) Oh what a pair! :P Thank you, I do happen to love me a bit of sarcasm in a bit of everything. The spice of life, I tell you!**

They sat down around a massive black wood table that had a gleaming top line neatly with various reports and statistical papers.

Peter sat at the head of the table. Evie was to his left, and Arthur and Alfred sat beside each other on his right. Varying ranks sat farther down, but Arthur could only identify a few. MI6 was a very large agency, after all.

"Everyone, settle down!" Peter ordered and waited until everyone had his or her attention set on him.

"Now then, everyone has been briefed on the details as their clearances allow."

Peter fished in his pocket and pulled out a small remote control and pressed one of the buttons. A panel set on the wall behind Peter slid back to reveal a large black screen.

"The CIA representatives of this case couldn't come in person. They're tied up with finishing off the Detroit operation, but their director of the operation and his assistant have agreed to join this meeting via video streaming."

The Director pressed another button and the screen lit up. On the display was a tall, broad man sitting in a high back chair. Another man, much slimmer and handsomer stood just behind him.

Alfred beamed.

"Hey Boss! Hi Mattie!"

The dark haired man nodded and offered a small smile. Matthew chuckled, giving a small wave.

"That's Matthew?" Arthur asked in shock. He looked from the screen to Alfred, then back to the screen. Both had dusty gold hair and wore glasses that framed their faces neatly. While Alfred's eyes were a dazzling bright blue, Matthew's seemed more indigo, still, he could barely tell the two apart!

"Yep!" He winked at Arthur before looking up to the screen again.

Matthew smiled.

"Nice to finally meet you Arthur. Al's told me about you."

"Grand…" The Brit groaned.

"Y'know, Boss always used to get us confused when Mattie first transferred to my division. Right, Boss?"

The broad man sighed, nodding.

"Let's not get off topic, Al."

"I agree." Peter chimed, turning his chair to be able to see both the table and the screen.

"Why don't we begin, then?" Arthur stated obviously and so the meeting commenced.

**~^Risico^~**

The meeting was finally winding down, and now it seemed that just Peter and Alfred's boss were talking over the last minuet details.

Alfred was beyond bored. He'd already scribbled silly doodles all over the backs of most of his papers.

He glanced to his right and noted that Arthur was watching the screen, and not the small stack of papers by his hand. The American snatched one deftly, beginning to scribble something down in his bold handwriting.

The blue-eyed agent slid the paper over, bumping his partner's hand. Arthur glanced down at the paper, frowning as he read it.

'_Is__this__almos__tover?'_

The Brit eyed Alfred skeptically, but Alfred flashed an innocent grin. The green-eyed man scrawled a note back in his fluid, neat script.

'_How__should__I__know?'_

He pushed it back to the other blond discreetly.

'_You've__been__paying__attention__,right__?__Ifigured__you__would__know!'_

Alfred sent the note back. Arthur growled softly.

'_Be__patient,__git.'_

'_I__don't__want__to!__I'm__so__bored!'_

'_Stop__your__whining.'_

'_Make__me!'_

After Alfred sent the note back, he felt a sharp kick to his ankle and winced with a small grunt of pain. The Brit beside him had a smug look on his face.

Evie noticed and leered at her agents like an annoyed mother, silently warning her misbehaving children.

Arthur colored with embarrassment and glared death at Alfred, but said nothing.

The meeting continued, but nothing seemed to alleviate the American's boredom.

After another thirty minutes of sheer agony, the Alfred picked up his pen and scribbled a new note to his partner.

'_I'm__sorry.__Truce?'_

He poked Arthur's hand with the pen to get his attention and slipped the note to him.

The Brit looked reluctant at first, but the American's hopeful expression won him over.

'_Fine.__Now__pay__attention.'_

'_Yay!__Thanks!__How__about__you__just__fill__me__in__later?'_

'_Idiot.'_

Alfred smirked and tucked the paper away in his suit jacket. The meeting was almost done anyway, as the Directors were just saying goodbyes and good lucks.

The blue-eyed agent looked up to the screen and caught his brother's eyes. He mouthed something silently and the other agent gave a single nod in confirmation just before the video cut out and Peter turned to face the rest of the officials present.

"Now then, is everyone clear on their roles? Arthur and Alfred will be conducting fieldwork and surveillance. The sixth floor agents are to assist them in any manpower they might need and you are both cleared to access our labs and armories for anything you might need.

"Surveillance will run until Evie and I give the okay to move ahead and actually put our guest's acclaimed talents to good use." He said and smiled at Alfred.

The American beamed proudly, puffing out his chest some. He really didn't have a clue what was going on, but if he'd heard that last statement right he guessed he was finally going back into the asset field.

"Any questions?" Peter inquired, cocking a thick brow.

No one took up the offer and Peter smiled.

"Then everyone is dismissed. Return to your prior appointments."

The officials rose collectively. Some left immediately, other lingered a bit but most left at a leisurely pace.

Evie stood, nodding goodbye to both Alfred and Arthur before following the Director out of the auditorium.

Arthur also moved to stand, but stopped when his partner set a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"What now, Alfred?" He growled out, growing annoyed.

Alfred walked around the perimeter of the table and plucked the remote Peter had been holding a moment before from the edge of the table. With a quick glance, he noted the room was clear of everyone save him and Arthur.

He fumbled with the buttons until the screen on the far wall lit up again and Matthew appeared on the screen.

"Finally!" Matthew exclaimed as he leaned forward on the desk he currently sat at.

"It was really awesome to see you again, Mattie!"

"It's only been a couple of days." The other brother responded but couldn't help but grin.

"I know. I miss the States already, too."

Arthur huffed.

"What's this about, git? We could be in serious trouble for toying with Peter's video screens."

"Oh right." Alfred crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaning back against the table.

"Mattie, have you found anything else on our targets?"

"I did, actually." Matthew turned and began to search something on the computer at his desk. A few moments later, he turned the monitor to show Alfred and Arthur the screen.

"Some of the peons at Detroit squealed. Gave up quite a bit of information with some, uh… encouragement, courtesy of one of our more aggressive agents."

"It was that new guy, wasn't it? The Cuban one?"

Matthew nodded.

"I told you he was a loose cannon!" Alfred snapped with accusation.

"You only said that because he hates you!"

"He tried to kill me, Mattie! I swear!"

"Right. Of course." Matthew rolled his eyes and tapped the screen. "Just look at this."

The agents in London did so and Matthew began to explain the profile set up in front of them.

"Apparently, this guy, Tino Väinämöinen, is one of the higher ups in Yao's organization. He was supposed to be in charge of the shipping of cadavers to the US. When CIA busted the shipment at arrival point, it seems he was removed from the lead. A guy named Gil is supposed to be taking over where he failed. That's all we know."

"So, Tino is where now?" Arthur asked.

"In London supposedly." Matthew answer with a shrug. "But that hasn't been confirmed."

"Do _you_ think he is?" Alfred inquired. Matthew was silent a moment, and then nodded.

"I do. Trust me, I heard the way our Cuban friend had the man squealing like a stuck pig. I don't think he'd lie."

"Can you send Tino's picture to my phone? We can keep an eye out for him."

"If you two can get him in for interrogation, I'll bet we can make him crack. Do you have any idea the information we could pull? We could take down Yao's whole operation if this guy is as high up as our man says he is." Matthew added, turning back to his computer and pulling the monitor to its place.

"We'll make him a top priority then." Arthur confirmed.

"There, sent." Matthew stated and Alfred pulled out his phone. His eyes brightened as the screen lit up and confirmed Matthew's statement.

"Alright, perfect. Thanks Mattie, you're the best."

"I know, but thanks for reminding me."

"Anytime, bro."

"I'll text you later if I can get any more information, Al."

"Great."

"Nice meeting you, Mr. Kirkland!"

Arthur grunted with a slight wave of his hand as a goodbye.

The screen clicked off and Alfred sighed, looking over his shoulder to his blond partner.

"Still have that bad feeling, don't you?" Arthur inquired and began to neatly stack their papers.

"Sort of. Why?"

"I got the same feeling and the chills when I saw Tino's photograph. I think I've seen him before."

"Really?"

"I can't recall exactly where, but it certainly wasn't the best part of London."

"Hey it's something, at least."

"I suppose."

Alfred unhitched himself from the table and started towards the door.

"C'mon. There's still plenty of daylight left. I'll bet we can start doing some surveillance work around the Port without too much suspicion."

"Very well." Arthur rose. "I'll meet you down in the lot. I'll go and inform Evie that we're leaving."

"Alright! Make it quick, old man!" Alfred teased, striding out the door before Arthur could muster up a retort.

"Stupid git." The Englishman muttered as he tucked their papers under his arm. A couple of the papers strayed and fell to the ground, though.

With a frustrated growl, the Brit bent to pick them and noted the huge collection of silly drawings scribbled on the once crisp, white sheets.

On a whim, he looked them over and scoffed. Random hamburgers with faces and American flags littered the page along with other strange things like different perspectives of a UFO. What caught Arthur's eye though was some graffiti styled writing that had been scratched out for some reason.

Squinting, Arthur could see the drawing had once said something along the lines of his name and a plethora of poorly drawn hearts surrounding it.

A faint heat crept on his cheeks and without another moment's delay, Arthur stuffed the paper into his pocket and walked out of the auditorium with red tinted cheeks.

~^Risico^~

Kiku watched Tino pace the room. The Fin had a panicked look torturing his expression. The Japanese man gave his friend a concerned look.

"Tino. I think it wourd be wisest if you sat down. Berward wirr be fine."

"But, Kiku! What if the CIA got him? What if he got in a car accident?"

"Unrikery."

"But-"

"Sit." Kiku pointed to one of the other chairs in the room. Tino sighed, but obeyed.

"You have to stay carm, Tino. You get sroppy when you panick. Remember Detroit?"

"Yes…" The Fin admitted.

"You can not mess up again. You have a job to do. You can't ret Berward's situation get in the way of this. Yao won't be preased if this drop off doesn't go exatry as pranned."

"But, Berwald is always punctual! I haven't heard anything from him since we dropped the cases off last night! Besides, does Yao expect me to do the drop off alone?"

"No. Norge wirr accompany you if Berward doesn't reappear before the drop off time." Kiku responded simply.

The violet-eyed man sighed heavily.

"If it is any comfort, I don't think anything bad has happened to Berward. He probabry is just derayed with the crients."

"If you say so." Tino shrugged.

"Is your vehicre prepped?"

"No, I forgot. I was tied up thinking about Berwald…"

"Go and do that then. It wirr take your mind off your friend." The Japanese man ordered gently, rising from his seat.

"Yes, sir." Tino mumbled, but didn't move for a while. Kiku was right, he couldn't mess this job up. Yao didn't like hitches in his plans and Tino had already generated a very large dent.

The Fin clenched his fists. But where was his Swedish friend? Berwald never just didn't show up when a job was involved. They were supposed to do this drop off together, and now he'd have to go with Norge.

Sure, he liked the aloof Norwegian, but having Berwald as his back up was just so much more comforting.

He ran his fingers through his pale hair before standing and heading for the garage. He had a job to do, and there were things to do before he could leave. Maybe Berwald would return before it was time to leave. Tino hoped he would.

**Next chapter, I swear there will be awesome stuff! Explosions and cars and guns, oh my! :P**


	12. The Fast Life

**Risico**

**Chapter 12: A Fast Life**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek**

**A/N: Promised you guys something half-way decent this time in the means of action. Here you go! :P**

**Reviews:**

**Ilovesmilingfools: They're are just too cute in general. ;P**

**Renuki: Hehehe. Alfie and his doodles! ^^ It made me smile when i wrote it.**

**aerrow4eva: Probably terrifying! She's always armed, you know! ;)**

**blackcat: Family of secret agents must be interesting!**

**Inkaugneato: I would, for shizzy! xD**

**Kraut: Sorry it was a bit later than usual. Writer's block really bites. :(**

**Trumpet-Geek: I'm grad you rike Kiku's accent. ;)**

**Kay: If they paid me to write this stuff I'd quit my job and school and be a happy woman chickadee the rest of my life. ;) Too bad that'll never happen. :P Oh Tino has his tough-guy side, but I wouldn't say ruthless. Haha, That's Norge's job, silly! and ... I have nothing to say to that last part. *snorts* xD**

**DL: Lol, I played a good shooter game called Rainbow Six. ;) Does that count? Lol. Don't apologize! I don't mind you lurking! hehe :D**

By the time the night swallowed up the sky, Alfred and Arthur had been watching the port for hours.

Alfred had his hands draped over the wheel of his cooling Corvette with a bored expression on his face. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had yet to occur.

The American agent was currently watching the port's main entrance from the safety of an alley across the road. Arthur, on the other hand, was parked by the port's flank, watching the special personnel entrance.

The CIA agent reached for the radio lying on the armrest, pressing the 'talk' button as he brought it up.

"Artie?"

The radio crackled with static before Arthur's annoyed voice sounded.

"What now?"

"How long have we been out here?"

"About seven and a half hours. Why?"

"Wanna call it a day?"

"Quitting already?"

"It's dark out! I can't see a thing, and there has been nothing unusual all day."

"The night's still young, twit."

"It's not like the port is going anywhere," Alfred grumbled, pressing his forehead to the steering wheel.

"No, but our targets might be."

"But Artie! I'm starving!" Alfred whined, completely fed up with waiting in his car. His legs were cramped, his back hurt and on top of it he hadn't eaten since last night. He'd always hated stakeouts; action was his forte. Alfred was truly in his own personal hell.

"Shut u-, wait…"

"What was that?"

"Hold on, Alfred. I see someone pulling up to the restricted entrance."

"In what?"

"An old Saab, silver, heavy mirror tint on the windows."

"And the driver?"

There was a long pause. Alfred felt an uneasiness worm into his gut.

"Artie?"

"It's him, Alfred. It's defiantly Tino, and another man is with him."

"What are they doing?"

"Unloading something from the Saab. I can't tell what it is though."

"Are they armed?"

"Tino doesn't appear to be, but the other man looks as if he's got an H&K rifle. He's leaving though."

"Leaving?"

"I'm guessing so. He's walking away to another building."

"That can't be right. Why would he walk away?"

"I don't know, git! I'm just telling you what I see!"

"Alright, alright! Quit yellin'!" Alfred teased. "Let's get this guy already!"

"What?"

"You heard me, go get 'im! I'm on my way over to your side."

"Alfred, I don't think that's very wise."

"Between the two of us, nothing can go wrong!"

"I have a bad feeling about this, American."

"I've had a bad feeling all day, Artie."

"That's even more of a reason _not_to act rash!"

"When are we gonna get such a perfect chance ever again, huh? Tino, unarmed, alone, and we just happen to be here to trap him. This is perfect!"

"I still don't think it's wise."

"Trust me on this one."

Arthur sighed heavily and then pressed the 'talk' button one last time.

"I'll go on foot, stay close in the Corvette, just in case he tries to escape."

"I've got your back, no worries."

The Brit clipped the radio to his belt and made sure to pull the tweed coat over it and his gun. He exited the Astra, drawing in a deep breath as he quietly shut the door.

Crossing the street, Arthur pressed himself to first building and peered around the corner. He was still a good fifty feet away from the still running Saab. Tino appeared to have gone into the building, which happened to be the port's marina office.

Drawing in a steadying breath, Arthur silently crossed the distance to the silver car. He tried to peer in through the windows, but the tint and darkness kept him from seeing much of anything.

Arthur turned, about to head into the office, but found himself suddenly staring at Tino's form in the open doorway of the marina office.

The Brit reached for his gun and badge.

"SIS, don't move!" He ordered, holding up the badge.

Tino drew in a startled breath and then bolted into the office, slamming the door behind him.

Arthur growled, slipping the badge back on his belt and pulling out the radio.

"Alfred, I have Tino trapped in the marina office. Where are you?" He asked, pushing the door to the office open.

The inside was plain; a few pictures of London's prominent buildings were framed around the standard desks and cubicles. Nothing looked out of the place in the slightest.

There were only two ways Tino could have gone, Arthur noted: straight ahead, or around the main desk into the back rooms.

The radio crackled.

"I'm just pulling up beside the Saab," Alfred's voice echoed over the radio's speaker.

"I'm in the office, get in here."

A moment later Alfred jogged up to his side, his gun drawn.

"I'll take the back rooms, you go straight," the Brit ordered, making his way around the desks.

The SIS agent searched in each cubicle, looking under the desks, around machinery, even rifling through the various filing rooms. He crossed the hallway numerous times, checking each room thoroughly.

Where the hell could Tino have gone? Maybe Alfred was having better luck? The Englishman brought the radio up and pressed the button to speak.

"Alfred, have you found him?"

"Nope. Everything's clear, Artie."

"Damn it, I can't find him either!"

The Brit sighed and clipped the radio back to his belt, white knuckling his gun in frustration.

There was only one other room left in the corridor. As Arthur pushed the door open, he was greeted by nothing but darkness. He drew in a steadying breath to bolster his nerves and stepped in, keeping one hand on the wall as he moved around the perimeter of the room.

Outstretching his hand, Arthur tried to feel for a light switch, but didn't have any luck as he fumbled in the darkness.

His knee bumped something hard and metallic, causing the Englishman to wince. Suddenly, something was shoved into him, smacking him against the wall. He crashed ungracefully to it, but raised his gun, firing off two shots into the darkness. The flare of the muzzle-flash brightened the room for just a moment but Arthur could see a figure feeling out the entrance of the long room.

"Artie, are you okay? I heard shots!"

The Brit grabbed the radio as he ran.

"Fine. Tino's heading back towards you!"

Suddenly, an explosive bang and the tinkling of shattering glass sounded.

"Alfred-"

"Heard it. Sounds like Tino just went out a window."

Arthur grimaced, sprinting to the source of the sound. He rounded a corner and found Alfred approaching a shattered window close to the office's entrance.

"American!" He called, catching the other blond's attention. The CIA agent glanced at him for only a split second, as the sound of an engine roaring assaulted their ears, drawing his attention away.

"The Saab," Alfred murmured before dashing to the marina office's entrance. The Brit growled and followed after him, not nearly as fast as the longer legged agent.

As the blue-eyed agent sprinted out the door with his gun raised, a shot in the dark sang out, striking him full force in the arm and knocking him back.

He howled in pain, eyes narrowed in agony. The shot had left a massive wound that had frayed his nerves, leaving his arm limp.

He watched as the Saab's bright headlights flared up and the car peeled away from the marina with a screech.

Alfred barely registered Arthur's shout of concern as instinct took over and he ran to his Corvette, parked just beside where the Saab had once been.

The CIA agent climbed into the driver's seat, smashing the push-to-start button and slamming the car into gear in a near blur. He cut the wheel hard and gunned the engine, making the car roar and shriek as it turned and threw up gravel from under the tires before peeling away after the Saab.

Arthur hissed as the spray of tiny rocks stung his raised arms and face. He swore, watching the Corvette slide on to the road and roar as Alfred stomped on the accelerator.

The emerald-eyed blond didn't waste a moment, snatching up Alfred's dropped handgun and pelting across the street to his parked Astra, a fiery determination burning in his eyes.

Another shot rang out from seemingly nowhere, striking the ground between Arthur's feet as he ran. Thankfully, when it ricocheted off the asphalt it only scrapped the inside of his trouser leg. It startled the Brit, but not enough to make him stop. He'd been shot at plenty of times before, nothing new there.

Reaching the safety of the Astra, Arthur climbed in and started the vehicle, pulling out onto the road to follow after the Corvette's burning taillights in the distance.

Alfred's Corvette made quick work of the head start Tino had gotten on them. Arthur couldn't help but smirk as the cocky American angled the Corvette to slam the back corner of the Saab, sending the older car into a screeching tailspin.

The Brit's grin turned to one of sheer horror, though, as the crack of another shot sounded and a massive bang erupted. Arthur watched as one the Corvette's front tires exploded, showering black rubber across the pavement, and the off balance vehicle tilted, slamming into a curb, and flipped.

Arthur didn't care that Tino appeared to have regained control of the Saab and was speeding off; he couldn't take his eyes off the Corvette as it rolled and crumpled. Metal and glass burst from the vehicle in a terrifying display that would forever be burned into the SIS agent's mind. Arthur's heart felt as if it had stopped when the dark gray vehicle slammed to a stop against a light post.

He was completely breathless as he pulled the Astra off the road, and jumped from the car. The SIS agent didn't bother to avoid stepping on all the shattered glass and metal that had come loose from the totaled Corvette lying on its side. His only occupying thought was the American agent.

"Alfred!" He screamed as he ran up as close as he dared to the still trembling vehicle.

No answer. Nothing moved from inside the destroyed muscle car. He knew better than to approach too closely, but it was hard to resist the urge when he knew Alfred was probably hurt.

"Oh God…" he whispered under his breath and wrenched his cell phone from his coat pocket, dialing 999 and raising the phone to his ear.

The operator answered quickly.

"Emergency service. How can I help you?"

"I need an ambulance! There's been a car accident."

"Ok, sir, stay calm. Where are you and are you hurt?"

Arthur looked around with darting eyes. He finally located a road sign and some sort of hotel sign beside it.

"Sir? Are you hurt?" The operator prompted again.

"No. The accident is on Royal Pier Road, by the Claredon Hotel!"

"Okay, sir. Can you give me a full address?"

"No, I can't see any building numbers."

"That's fine. We're sending help. Stay on the line."

Arthur obeyed, breathing hard, mind completely distraught over the blue-eyed agent's condition. He couldn't see him through the crumpled mess of metal and that unnerved him horribly.

It felt like an eternity before the ambulance arrived and Arthur barely registered the sound of the sirens over the thunderous pounding of his heart in his ears.

"Sir, can you see the ambulance?" The operator startled Arthur from his worries. The SIS agent glanced behind him to see the flashing red lights of the emergency vehicle.

"Yes," he breathed out. "I can see it."

"Okay. I'm going to hang up now."

"Thank you," Arthur muttered, ending the call and stepping up to the emergency responders as they climbed out of the ambulance.

"Sir, are you alright?" One asked as another pair dashed over to the destroyed Corvette.

"Fine," Arthur said, and began answering the man's questions about the accident in a daze. More sirens and more vehicles arrived, but it was as if it were happening in a whole other world to the emerald-eyed agent.

He only wanted to know if Alfred was alive, and if so, would he be all right?

_Alfred __Jones, __don't __you __dare __die __on __me_, he thought with an aching heart as he turned to watch the responders try to peal the car away from the CIA agent's body.

**Is it bad that I'm just as sad over the Corvette as I am Alife? :,( And I guess I should point out that it's Norge on a vantage point shooting at our heroic agent and his SIS buddy. It would make sense if you knew that the H&K mentioned is a very powerful sniper rifle. Amazing guns! It's been used on Burn Notice before if anyone watches that! :)**


	13. Side Effects

**Risico**

**Chapter 13: Side Effects**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek**

**:) Chapter 13, still chuggin' along with my slow pace. But, hey it's still progress right?**

**Reviews:**

**denise134: Yeah. I'm behind, too. ;)**

**Lady Skorpio: The poor 'vette! :,(**

**aerrow4eva: A shot in the foot maybe? Whatever it was you'd never do that again! :P**

**Kraut: I know the pain of cliffhangers, unfortunately for you, I am a sadist. :P heheh**

**Bella: Grazie! :D**

**Trumpet-Geek: Not the sexy secret agent! Dx Lol**

**DL: It hurt to write, it really did! :P**

**blackcat: ... maybe...**

**Renuki: I'd imagine so! *nods***

"Damn, Norge! You couldn't have cut that any closer!" Tino threw up his hands in exasperation as he got out of the Saab.

The Norwegian shrugged, cradling his sniper rifle against his chest.

"I didn't miss. That's what matters. Besides, I didn't expect two targets."

"Yeah, well I didn't expect the SIS to show up and try to catch me!" He growled. Bringing his hands up, he massaged his throbbing temples as his painful headache flared up.

"Have you any idea how difficult it is to shoot the tire out from under a low riding vehicle at over 100 kilometers an hour?" Norge inquired blankly as he followed Tino from the garage.

Tino glared over his shoulder as if about to answer before a deep, rumbling voice answered instead.

"N'arly' imp'ssible."

The Fin rounded on the voice. His lips parted with an excited greeting and a brilliant smile.

"Berwald! You're back!"

The Swede nodded, noting Tino's sheer delight with an inner smile. Naturally, it didn't show on his stony face.

"I was starting to get worried," Tino shrugged coyly. He sent a glare Norge's way when the sniper scoffed, turning on his heel to be away from his far more emotional companions. Besides, Tino's escape had impaired their drop, and Yao needed to be informed.

Tino waited until he was certain the Norwegian was gone before he turned back to Berwald.

"I really was worried, you know. Mathais told me I was a mess and Kiku had to try and calm me down."

The big Swede beckoned the violet-eyed man over towards the main room and Tino bounced after him. He kept on about his worry as they walked, and Berwald merely nodded with all the shorter man's statements.

They sat down on the couch. Tino curled his legs under himself, settling against the couch.

"Ya' should't w'rry 'bout m' T'no."

"I couldn't help it. After tonight, I think I'm going to be worried about everyone, even Norge."

"Wh't h'ppen'd?"

"An SIS agent caught Norge and I as we pulled up to the marina. Norge managed to get them off my tail."

"Ya' h'rt?"

"No, I'm just fine. I can't say the same for the agent trying to catch me though," the Fin smirked. "His car rolled right into a light post. I don't think our friend will be bothering us any time soon. Maybe ever. The wreck looked pretty bad from what I could see."

Berwald nodded.

"Only go'd ag'nt is a dead 'ne."

The Fin chuckled.

"You're starting to sound like Norge."

"H' rubs 'ff on ya'."

Tino shrugged, thinking fondly of the aloof Norwegian who'd saved his life on many occasions.

"True. So I told you what happened, but just where have you been?"

The Swede leaned heavily on the couch. After a loud yawn, he started to recite the prior events in his usually low, rumbling voice while the Finnish man beside him listened attentively.

**`*.:Risico:.*`**

Arthur growled softly as he paced the waiting room of the hospital. All his nerves sparked with furious panicking energy. He couldn't stay still for a moment as he worried over Alfred.

His phone vibrating in his pocket made him jump with a startled yip. Fumbling for it with slightly trembling hands he looked at the caller ID. It wasn't a number he recognized, so he stuffed it back in his pocket.

The Brit swore under his breath as the phone began to vibrate again. He ignored it, completely consumed by his worry.

The phone felt as it were going to burn a whole in the SIS agent's pocket with how often it kept being called.

Finally, Arthur answered in a blazing fury.

"Who the bloody fucking hell is this and what th-"

"Arthur?"

The Englishman paused. That voice, it was eerily familiar. There was no possible way, but Arthur couldn't help the surreal hope in his voice.

"Alfred?"

A sigh.

"No, it's Matthew!"

"Oh! I apologize. You sound j-"

"Just like him. Yeah, I get that a lot. And it's about time you answered! I kept trying to call you!"

"Why? And how did you even get my number?"

"It's my job to know these kinds of thing, Arthur. Both as an agent and being Alfred's big brother."

"You're the elder?"

"Sort of. We're twins, but I was born first. Anyway, that's not important! What's going on? A hospital called me from Alfred's I.C.E. contacts, telling me he'd been hurt, but they wouldn't give me any more details! You're the only person I could think to call since clearly Al couldn't." The other CIA agent sounded deeply troubled.

Arthur sighed heavily. How in the world was he going to break this gently to Matthew?

"Alfred was in a car accident. We were trying to apprehend that Tino fellow you had just informed us about when we came under fire. His Corvette rolled at a high speed."

"Oh God…" Matthew murmured in shock.

"I'm so sorry, Matthew. He-"

"Is he okay? Have you seen his condition?" Matthew asked with panicky speed.

"I haven't. They refused to let me see him before he went under for surgery."

"Surgery? For what?"

"Some form of internal bleeding."

"I'm coming over there," Matthew said decisively.

"What? Matthew! You're an ocean away!"

"I don't care, Arthur. The agency won't mind loaning me a jet if I can convince them this is mission critical."

"That's insane! Besides, we have no idea how bad Alfred's condition is. It could be minimal!" Arthur tried hopefully.

"Arthur," Matthew started bluntly, gathering up his coat with the cell phone still cradled to his ear. "Listen to yourself for a second. How fast was Alfred going when he rolled the 'vette?"

"Awfully fast. I'd say at least 100 kilometers," the Brit admitted, still pacing the waiting room.

"And he's going in for surgery. Do you really think the damage is 'minimal?'" He sounded dark and slightly bitter, making Arthur feel guilty for having tried to downplay Alfred's injuries. He hadn't meant to upset the elder brother. He hoped it was only Matthew's worry talking.

"I have to go convince my boss to let me take a jet. I don't know when I'll be there, but Arthur, you'd best keep me informed if anything happens."

Arthur nodded, even though Matthew couldn't see him.

"Of course, Matthew."

"Good. What hospital are you both at?"

"Basildon."

"Okay. Thanks. Like I said, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Do you really think you'll be able to fly out now?"

"Once the jet is prepped, yeah. Boss knows nothing comes between Alfred and me. He won't argue if I tell him Al's been hurt. Besides, I've been thinking about your mission. I think I could be a much bigger help if I was actually with you guys. I've already been briefed on it, anyway. I think I can play this off to the higher ups as a beneficial use of some very expensive jet fuel."

Arthur chuckled mirthlessly.

"If you say so."

"I do, and that's that. Right, I'll call you when I arrive in London. Call this number if anything happens, it's my cell."

"Very well."

"See ya." Matthew ended the call. The emerald-eyed agent sighed and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He ceased his pacing for a moment to comb his shaking fingers through his messy hair.

He peeked out of the waiting room to peer down the hallways towards the operating rooms.

"Stupid git… Now you've even got your brother in a fuss, as well! It wasn't bad enough you had to put me on the fritz!" He murmured under his breath. "Damn it, American, just don't die."

He grumbled, finding his heart aching when he thought of the terrible wreck and Alfred's limp form as the emergency responders had pulled him from the debris. The ride to the hospital had been one of the worst moments in Arthur's life.

The Brit shook off the thoughts and went back to pacing the waiting room as he waited for the CIA agent to come back from surgery.

**`*.:Risico:.*`**

Arthur jolted awake as a man's hand shook his shoulder. He'd fallen asleep after making the mistake of sitting down when his legs had started to ache from his insistent pacing. He'd managed to stay awake well into the morning hours, but when the sun had begun to rise, he just couldn't stay up.

"Arthur!"

The Brit's head shot up, and he met a pair of big, concerned indigo eyes. He blinked sleepily.

"Matthew?"

"That's my name," the CIA agent agreed with a weary smirk.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Don't know. I just got here. I got worried when you didn't answer your phone, but it looks like you were dozing at your post!" He said, but there wasn't a bit of malice in his voice.

"My apologies. What time is it, mate?"

Matthew glanced at his phone.

"Almost six in the morning. I'm really surprised they didn't make you go home."

"I glared at them plenty. They knew I wasn't going anywhere. That and they didn't object to my badge or Alfred's." Arthur rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

Matthew offered a knowing shrug and beckoned Arthur to rise.

"I'd start with pleasantries of our first live and formal meeting; however, I really want to see my brother. The nurses offered to let you come, too, so long as you are with me. That's if you want to, of course."

Arthur scoffed.

"Of course I'm coming."

"I hoped you'd say that. I think Alfred would appreciate you being here."

The SIS agent blushed a bit. What was Matthew getting at?

"Oh, Al didn't tell you that he tells me everything?"

"He did, but, err….I didn't think he really meant _everything_."

"Don't think you or anything you two have done has been a secret, even for a moment," Matthew teased with a knowing tone to his voice as he led Arthur from the waiting room.

The embarrassed Brit averted his eyes.

"So, everything?"

"Even things I didn't want to know…"

"Oi! Like what?"

"Oh, about your little stunt the other night. By the way, thank you for going back for Al."

"Err, you're welcome?"

"I mean, I'm still not too fond of the idea that you ditched my bro in the first place, but no one's ever come back for him. I guess I can get over it since you did."

Arthur swallowed.

"That happens often?"

"Have you even noticed Al's promiscuity? I know it sounds bad, but I mean it in all affection. He's a bit of a man-whore." Matthew laughed as Arthur nearly gagged on his reaction.

"I'll admit he came off a bit strong, but…"

"Oh, don't worry; he's always been that way. He's got some strange destruction-bound disillusion that if he gets with enough people, eventually, he'll find a keeper. Y'know, one that comes back for him."

"That's…unwholesome, to say the least," Arthur tried, stepping into the hospital elevator after Matthew. "But why are you telling me this?"

The elder CIA agent shrugged, pressing the button to shut the elevator doors.

"No reason," he dismissed. Arthur found it strange, but this was Alfred's brother. Maybe the same general oddness he'd found in Alfred applied to Matthew as well?

"You know, you're awfully calm," Arthur commented when the doors slid open.

"I'm used to Al getting hurt, and as the years go on his injuries get progressively more strange or painful. I get over the shock of Al getting himself in danger pretty quickly now."

"I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing," Arthur responded wryly.

When they found Alfred's room, Arthur braced himself for whatever he might see. Gruesome images of the cocky American a battered mess and the cold machines around him flooded his mind before Matthew shook him from his thoughts when he opened the door.

Arthur wasn't the least bit disappointed when he saw that the younger American was awake and trying futilely to reach the room's television remote on the bed stand table. The blue-eyed man's long fingers scrabbled just short even as he stretched as far as his sore muscles and stitches allowed.

"Al!" Matthew exclaimed and rushed to his brother's side. The elder swatted his brother's hand away with a scolding expression and swiped the remote from the table.

"Mattie!" Alfred exclaimed in a hoarse voice, his hazy eyes lighting up at the sight of his brother. "What the hell are you doing here, bro?"

"Making sure you're not dead! You idiot! Don't ever do something like this to me again! One of these days you're going to over-do it and then you're gonna be sorry!"

He looked his brother over. Matthew could clearly see that he had at least a few broken fingers judging by the splints on his left hand. Underneath, bandages covered bright burn marks across his chest and neck and various gauze patches were strewn across the plethora of gashes that littered his whole body. His entire body looked bruised in varying shades of purples and reds. A row of stitches decorated his upper arm and a long slit on the right side of his abdomen, which Alfred flaunted like some kind of grisly trophy.

"Look, this one sort of matches the one you've got on your leg from when you fell out of that tree from when you were, like, seven!" The younger American pointed out.

Matthew groaned, glaring death at his brother.

"I'm going to be nice and assume it's the painkillers talking, Al."

Alfred smiled sheepishly at his brother and apologized even as Matthew continued to glare down at him.

"Oh, I've been through worse!" Alfred tried to rationalize.

"That's no excuse!" Matthew retorted and gave a sharp tug on Alfred's golden hair, earning a yelp.

"This isn't fair! I can't fight back!"

Arthur chose then to clear his throat rather obviously.

Alfred's eyes switched to the previously unnoticed Brit. His blue eyes went wide and he offered a dazzling smile that made Arthur's heart warm a bit.

"Hey, Artie! What are you doing here?"

"Just following Matthew's example is all."

Matthew bent, leaning close to whisper in Alfred's ear. The Brit across the room cocked a brow as the brothers whispered quietly to one another, then parted a moment.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to try and get a hold of the surgeon who worked on Al and find something to drink," Matthew announced, walking towards the door. Purposefully, he passed close to Arthur and dropped a quick wink before vanishing out the door.

The Brit furrowed his thick brows but returned his gaze to Alfred without another word.

The American patted the white hospital bed, beckoning Arthur over with an easy smile.

Arthur took the invitation and seated himself sidesaddle on the bed by Alfred's legs.

"It was really nice of you to actually come see me."

The emerald-eyed agent scoffed. Why did these two Americans seem to think he didn't have enough heart to worry about his partner and one-time lover?

"Mattie told me you stayed all night," Alfred added.

"I did, much to the annoyance of the hospital staff."

The American nodded slowly.

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked, tracing patterns in the white sheets with his fingers.

"Sore, tired, kind of loopy," Alfred offered with a small shrug.

"Side effects of a near-fatal car wreck and surgery, no doubt."

"Probably," the blue-eyed agent laughed softly. They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Arthur slid his hand from the sheets to rest on Alfred's lower thigh, thumb rolling softly on the sheets to apply a comfortable, soothing pressure to the sore skin concealed beneath.

"You had me so bloody worried, American," Arthur murmured softly.

"Sorry. It's not like I try to get in car wrecks and make my partner sleep overnight in hospital waiting rooms," Alfred responded sleepily. The emerald-eyed man wondered just how long it had been since Alfred had been taken off the anesthesia. He still sounded groggy and weak.

"Yes, well, according to your brother, that's exactly what you do."

"Don't listen to Mattie. He over-exaggerates everything!"

"Why do I doubt that highly?"

"Because he's got you fooled into thinking I'm the bad twin."

"But you are…" Arthur reminded.

"Only sometimes!" Alfred tried to defend himself, but saw the obvious skepticism in Arthur's eyes and resigned. His hazy eyes slipped shut, simply enjoying the relative quiet and Arthur's steady hand on his leg.

The SIS agent mirrored him, the effects of almost no sleep finally catching up to him.

"Artie, maybe you should go home?"

Arthur opened his eyes to see that Alfred was now watching him through half-lidded blues.

"I should, but I'm not going toh" he responded, rubbing his bleary eyes.

"No?"

Arthur glanced to the dark green storage couch that was beside the bed.

"Is it tempting you?" Alfred chuckled lightly.

"Indeed it is, and something else..." He rose, trailing his fingers up to Alfred's cheek, caressing the soft skin.

The American agent looked surprised at the show of affection, but didn't object as the shorter leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss on his dry lips.

It was sweet, but far too short in Alfred's hazy mind. Reluctantly, Arthur pulled away. They were both exhausted and Alfred was still hurt. There was no need to overdo anything now.

The Brit sighed and lay down on the couch, curling up to sleep the morning away. He'd call Evie later and deal with the consequences of whatever may come. Right now he was just too relieved that Alfred was still alive and seemed well, and too tired to care about anything other than that simple fact.

"Good night, Artie!" Alfred chimed, settling in more comfortably on the hospital bed to try to get some natural sleep rather than medically-induced darkness.

"Night…" Arthur murmured under his breath, asleep almost instantly.

When Matthew walked back into the room holding a carry-out tray of steaming coffee for the three of them and a smile that meant good news, he found the other two blonds happily passed out and breathing deeply.

He sighed, rolling his eyes skyward before closing the door behind him.

He'd planned on using the coffee to bribe the two exhausted agents into giving him some details on the accident, but apparently he was too late.

"Morons…" he whispered under his breath with a smirk painting his lips. Well, he could still drink his own coffee, even if the others missed out.

Taking a seat in one the room's heavy chairs, he leaned back with the steaming cup in one hand and pulled out his phone with the other. He played around with various apps as he sipped the drink. Matthew continually flicked his gaze up to ensure his brother and his brother's lover were still sleeping soundly. He himself had slept on the long flight to London and besides, he was still nervous about Alfred's condition. A set of eyes on the monitoring machines at Alfred's side couldn't necessarily be a bad thing, could they?

Matthew thought not and settled in for the long morning hours of watching over the other two blonds.

**Hurray for Mattie in London! I know that was an awfully skippy timeline, but it was sort of like this for those who got lost:**

**7/8 'o clock(ish) pm - car wreck occurred.**

**9/10 'o clock(ish) pm - Artie/ Mattie talk (time difference, it's still late afternoon in the States)**

**5/6 'o clock(ish) am - Mattie arrives in London... la la la (compensating for prepping the Jet, airport stuff, etc).**


	14. Consequence

**Risico**

**Chapter 14: Consequence**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek!**

**Fluffy chapter, just because I felt like writing fluff! Sorry! :3**

**Reviews:**

**Funky Bracelet Chick: ! ;D**

**OMGitsgreen: OMG, I'm so glad you do! :DDD**

**denise134: ^^ Thanks!**

**Renuki: Beware, Yao, Mattie's on the loose. Mwuhahaha.**

**Trumpet-Geek: I should totally do that! :D Haha**

**aerrow4eva: Ugh, hopsital waiting room chairs give you a stiff back just from sitting in them! :P**

**Lunatic Grey: You don't ever have to be afraid of me, silly goose! I don't bite reviewers! Hehehe. :D I'm really glad you like how I've personified everyone, too! Thanks for reading and reviewing :)**

**Kraut: Awww thanks! *blushes* xD**

**Bella: Lol, I'm glad the Al/Art banter made your night! Hehe.**

**blackcat: Al the man-whore is slowly growing on Artie. ;) And yes, I love the Nordics, I could never leave them as generic no story bad guys. ;)**

When Arthur woke from his morning nap, he felt as though he were in a strange daze. Looking around, it took him a moment to realize where he was. The sterile smell, blinding florescent lights and low drone of human commotion could only mean he was still at the hospital.

"Welcome back to the world of the living!" Alfred chimed.

The Brit groaned, rolling over on his back and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"What time is it?" He inquired groggily.

"About two in the afternoon."

Arthur grunted.

"Evie is going to kill me."

"Yeah, she's been calling you a lot. You really need a better ringtone, by the way. I thought I was gonna go crazy if I had listen that generic, pre-programmed song one more time!" The American complained, wearing a cheeky grin.

Arthur shuffled in his pockets, searching for his phone. He pulled it out and the screen lit up, displaying a long list of missed calls from his office.

"Let me guess, you didn't have the decency to wake me up?"

"You didn't even budge for any of those calls. I figured you were really tired, so I told Matthew not to bother waking you up."

"How thoughtful!" Arthur groaned. "I'm going to get fired because you, git!"

"Oh you'll be fine! Everyone plays hooky, right?"

"I have not missed a day at work since you! That's twice now I haven't come in."

Alfred laughed and lay back down without responding. His mouth gaped in a yawn, and Arthur felt a sense of sympathy for the wounded American agent.

"Feeling any better this morning?" Arthur asked, rolling onto his stomach so as to properly watch the American. The other's deep blue eyes shimmered.

"You're like a cat."

"Pardon?" Arthur asked, cocking a brow.

"You keep rolling around and curling up on that couch like some sort of fat house cat!"

Arthur scoffed indignantly.

"Sorry I cared to ask!"

"I think it's cute."

The SIS agent rolled his eyes as a blush formed on his cheeks.

"Do not call me cute."

"But you are!"

"The painkillers are talking."

"No, I turned the morphine flow down."

"Then you're just an idiot."

"Actually, I'm pretty smart."

"I've seen no proof of that!"

Alfred grinned hugely, confusing Arthur. The Brit furrowed his brows in general suspicion of anything the American chose to use _that_grin for.

"I fail to see the humor in this."

"Your eyebrows. I just noticed how huge they are. They make your face look funny when you get mad."

Arthur sputtered, unconsciously patting his bangs down to try and hide his eyebrows.

"Shut it!" He growled back, glaring death at Alfred. "And how can you be so bloody cheery when you're like this? You look like a sodding mess!" He motioned to Alfred's battered form.

"I don't know. I just am," Alfred responded quickly, a faint twitch in his lips. Arthur could hear where the American's cocky tone had faltered for a moment. Narrowing his eyes, Arthur pondered with suspicion. Vaguely, he mused at the influence of his words. What had caused that change? He was shaken from his thoughts when Alfred spoke up hesitantly.

"Umm, Artie?"

"Yes?"

"I know this is gonna sound weird but, uh, since Matthew went out to go set up with MI6…he's uh, not around, and…"

"Spit it out already, American!" Arthur grumbled.

"You know, the wreck scratched me up and I hurt my leg some…. And my fingers are kinda broken."

"Is there a point to this?" Arthur prodded, drumming his fingers on the faux leather of the couch with impatience.

"I can't get up by myself…." Alfred admitted. "And I really have to use the bathroom."

The Englishman's eyes went wide. Alfred's embarrassed grin made him snort.

"You twit," he murmured under his breath before rising off the couch. He stepped up to the white hospital bed, cocking his head some.

"How do you want to go about this? I don't really know where you're hurting, other than where your bandages are."

"I hurt everywhere, but…." he motioned for Arthur to lean closer. When the Brit obeyed, Alfred looped his good arm around the emerald-eyed man's neck and leaned up. In turn, Arthur tentatively braced his arm around the American's back.

"My back's fine," the blue-eyed agent assured. Arthur moved on to Alfred's legs. Keeping his hands open-palmed, he carefully nudged the other's legs towards him, and off the bed. Alfred winced when his bare, bruised ankle bumped the Brit's leg.

"Sorry," Arthur apologized quickly, giving the man's torso a comforting squeeze around his middle.

Alfred loosed a hard breath, stifling the pain.

"You're fine," he assured, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, sighing lightly.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Arthur teased.

"I'm a masochist, what can I say?" The American joked, knowing full well Arthur had meant it differently. The Brit merely chuckled, but quickly sobered.

"Here's the hard part. Tell me if it hurts too much."

Arthur, still opened-palmed, slid his hand down to the small of Alfred's back and the other to the top of his thigh. Pressing oppositely, he flexed Alfred's curved body up, slowly letting the American hold more and more of his own weight.

Alfred hissed and winced through the entire ordeal, testing each sore leg for how much weight it could hold. Using Arthur for balance, he eventually found the ideal way to avoid the most pain. He heaved a sigh, breath tickling the shorter man's neck as he leaned on him.

"This could just be the biggest ploy, Alfred. You're lucky I know it really must hurt," Arthur jested.

"You're being affectionate."

"First I am a cat, then I'm cute and now I'm affectionate to you. Maybe I'm just being a decent gentleman and helping a wounded man up?"

"Do 'decent gentlemen' hug wounded men and grab their asses?" Alfred taunted with a wicked grin. Only then did Arthur fully realize that the hospital gowns were open in the back, and his hand had end up settling on the top of the American's firm cheeks.

The Brit blushed furiously, quickly shifting his hands to rest on the curve of Alfred's back instead.

"I didn't mean to do that."

"Of course not. Now help me to the bathroom door. I don't know if I can walk on my own."

Grumbling, he helped Alfred limp and shuffle to the bathroom attached to the small hospital room.

"You can do the rest on your own, right?" Arthur asked hopefully.

The American chuckled. "Yeah, I'll be fine now. Thanks, Artie."

The SIS agent merely nodded, standing by the door with his eyes cast to the ground as he waited for Alfred to be through.

When he was finished and remerged from the cramped bathroom, he looped his good arm back around his partner's neck and allowed himself to be led back to the white, slightly uncomfortable bed.

Arthur sat the blue-eyed man back down, cradling his back as he laid him down again. The Brit leaned over him as he helped Alfred get his sore legs back on the bed. Alfred inhaled sharply, and then loosed a low groan of pain when Arthur accidentally pressed his hand onto a particularly painful bruise on his calf.

The Brit felt his chest constrict with guilt. He pressed an apologetic kiss to the American's cheek and murmured: "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I didn't know there was a bruise there until you did that, actually, but…" Alfred trailed off suggestively. Arthur glowered.

"But what?"

"You could do that other little thing again and I wouldn't mind."

"What 'other little thing?'"

Alfred lightly tapped the cheek Arthur had kissed with one of his good fingers. He dropped a flirtatious wink at the Brit. Arthur smirked.

"I think I'll pass."

"Oh c'mon! Show your boyfriend some love, huh?"

"You still have ridiculous notion that we're dating?"

"Duh." Alfred waggled his good finger as if it were obvious. The emerald-eyed agent thought back to the doodle Alfred had scribbled during the meeting and sighed. The American did seem adamant about it.

"Nonsense," Arthur replied, however. "Besides, you're a mess!"

Alfred's smile dropped from his features.

"I'll heal. These will go away," he pointed out, motioning to his bandages and splints.

"Indeed they shall," Arthur agreed bluntly.

"So, a little kiss won't hurt, right?" Alfred pleaded with big, blue eyes turned hopefully up to the Brit, who resigned with a defeated shrug of his shoulders.

"Fine," Arthur stated, leaning down to capture the American's lips with his own. The blue-eyed agent smiled against the kiss, tilting his head for a better angle to taste those thin, British lips.

Neither heard the door to the room click open or someone enter until Matthew groaned.

"Really, guys? I leave for less than two hours and you're already making out? And in a hospital of all places! You've got no shame!" The elder American teased as he walked in with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Arthur wrenched away, his whole face a burning scarlet.

"It's not what you think, Matthew!"

"It's exactly what you think," Alfred disputed with a wily grin.

Matthew laughed.

"I know it, Al. Let me guess, you started it?"

"No, actually!" Alfred tilted his chin up proudly. "Artie did!"

"I did no such thing! You practically _begged _for me to kiss you!"

"You could have resisted."

Matthew rolled his eyes skyward and dropped the heavy bag to the floor with a thump to grab their attentions.

"Anyway…. Try not to let the hospital staff catch you. They don't really approve of two guys staining their nice sheets."

Even Alfred blushed at the implied statement.

"He can't even get up!" Arthur objected.

"Never stopped him before." Matthew retorted casually as he began to rummage through his bag.

Arthur rounded on the American in the bed with his eyes wide. The CIA agent offered a sheepish grin, but said nothing.

"Anyway," Matthew continued, "I just got set up with building guards and spoke on the phone with Director Peter. I let him know you both were here at the hospital and that Alfred had been hurt. He asked me to give you his regards."

The elder American pulled out a white crew shirt and a pair of gray sweat pants from the duffle bag. He tossed them on to the hospital bed.

"The shirt might be small, but the sweats will stretch. I figured you'd want something more comfortable and less reveling than that hospital gown. Though I'm not sure your boyfriend here minds."

Arthur growled at Matthew as a furious blush painted his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"We're not dating."

Alfred made a low whine in his throat, making Arthur groan.

"Don't lie to yourself, Arthur," Matthew teased.

The Brit didn't like being pinned by the two American brothers in the matter, but looking back at the wounded blond, he felt a warm tug at his heart. He was cheery, handsome, maybe a bit over the top but certainly interesting to be around. The Brit inwardly resigned his objections. He'd give the American a chance with the boyfriend title, and see how it played out from there.

"SIS and CIA must never know of this, though," Arthur warned. "We all know the rulebook. No relationships between partners."

"My lips are sealed," Matthew swore. Alfred agreed as well.

A knock on the door sounded, and they looked to the door to see a tall brunette woman in a light blue coat enter.

She glanced at Arthur and Matthew, then to a small packet of papers she had cradled under her arm.

"Right…" she mumbled, and then smiled up at them. "I was warned about this room. CIA and SIS agents who have no objection to abusing their badges." She chuckled softly, completely at ease and without a hint of any scorn towards them.

"I would ask what CIA is doing so far from home, but I'm going to assume that it's not my right to know."

Matthew chuckled in agreement while Alfred grinned.

The doctor nodded obviously and looked to Alfred.

"Well I have good news for you. The surgeons tell me your emergency operation went well. Nothing appears to be out of the ordinary with your injuries besides the quantity of them. Your burns weren't too extensive other than your chest. The scarring should be minimal there. Plenty of bruises, but those should heal rather quickly given your age and excellent health. The broken fingers will take quite some time to heal, however. You may need to undergo physical therapy to get full use of those back. I advise keeping the splints on as long as possible."

"Yes, ma'am," Alfred reluctantly agreed. "How long do you think I'll be in here?"

"We are certainly keeping you for at least another couple of days. We're going to have to make sure you didn't suffer from any spinal or brain injuries we might have missed in our initial examination."

The American groaned. He was already fed up with just lying in bed.

"Well, if it is any comfort, I'll allow you visits to the garden, since you seem to be up and doing well considering your condition." She looked to Arthur and Matthew.

"But just because he appears to be well, do not let him overdo it. No longer than an hour up without rest at any time. I trust you can police each other."

"We'll keep him in line."

"Excellent. You can ask any of the nurses to page me if you need anything else," she said, quickly checking over the monitors around the bed before leaving the room with a little wave.

As soon as the door shut with a sharp click, Alfred grabbed the clothes Matthew had tossed on the bed.

"Help me up!" Alfred outstretched his hand to Arthur.

"Absolutely not. You had your adventure for the day," the Brit retorted.

"You call one little kiss and four feet to the bathroom an adventure?" Alfred whined.

"I'm with Arthur on this one. You need to rest," Matthew added with all seriousness.

The blue-eyed agent sighed, leaning back against the pillows with a grumble.

"Go back to sleep, Alfred. I promise we'll wake you if anything happens," Mathew assured. The younger brother rolled his eyes skeptically.

He let his eyes slip shut, and found that it was easy to fall back asleep as the feeling of a raw kind of tiredness crept up his body quickly. Within a few moments he was breathing soft and even in sleep.

Arthur smirked.

"I don't know how you deal with him and stay sane." He glanced sidelong at Matthew, who was rummaging through the duffle bag again.

"You'll learn. Alfred's got his quirks, but he's fairly easy to keep in line once you figure those out. He likes to act now and think later, but he means well no matter what he does. You're sort of already adapting to him, I think."

The emerald-eyed man sniggered.

"If you say so. Either way, I need to call my boss back. I'm sure she's furious with me," he said, pulling out his phone as he walked to the door. He exited as he dialed the number, leaving Matthew alone to watch over his sleeping brother.

**`*.:Risico:.*`**

"Tino and I managed to escape without injury. Also, I think we've successfully put off the agents tailing us. The accident was bad. I'd be surprised if the man in the Corvette ever walked again."

"Still, the drop was an absolute failure," Yao said through narrowed eyes.

Norge nodded reluctantly.

"Bring Tino in here, if you would. He and I need to have a talk."

"Yes, sir," Norge responded, turning to leave Yao's office. He'd tried to make the botched mission seem like a success, but Yao was clearly not up to accepting that.

When he walked into the room and saw Tino and Berwald talking on the couch, he beckoned Tino over with a gesture. The Fin swallowed hard, saying a quick goodbye to Berwald before rising.

"Yao's office," the aloof Norwegian stated simply and walked past. The big Swede on the couch gave him an odd look when he passed. It was a sort of dark, questioning, and subtly accusing look accompanied by his usual leer.

The stormy-eyed man ignored him and walked on, heading to the armory to take care of his plethora of sniper rifles. Inwardly, he hoped Yao would go easy on the Fin.

**Eeep! Poor lil' Tino! :(**

**Anyway, I've never been to Basildon and Thurrock Hospital, but I've never been to a hospital without a garden or open relaxation area, so I just assumed it would have one too. My apologies if I'm wrong. :P**

**Also, just a note: entrance into the CIA in Alfred's position requires at least a Bachelor's degree, strong independent work and ability to work in teams with good communication skills. Alfred may be eccentric and a little on the wild side, but he's not stupid. :)**


	15. Homeward Bound

**Risico**

**Chapter 15: Homeward Bound**

**Beta-ed by Trumpet-Geek!**

**Not much to say. Silly, long chapter. Maybe you'll get some actual plot next time! xD**

**Reviews:**

**Denise134: Lol, I'm not much of a PruCan shipper. :P Sorry! Maybe I'll find Mattie some love...maybe.**

**anonymous: There shall be more smut, if that's what you mean. Probably a mix of both USUK and UKUS.**

**aerrow4eva: Oh, no one can save Tino from angry!Yao! :( Lol, awksies Alfred is pretty cute. :P**

**ilovesmilingfools: Same here.**

**Blackie: We had this conversation already! :P**

**Funky Bracelet Chick: :3 I'm glad, I tend to do it more often than healthy.**

**Trumpet-Geek: Yeah, pretty much how I pictured him. I can very much imagine a dark, cunning, intelligent side to Alfred he doesn't like to show unless absolutely necessary.**

**Blackcat: They do, but you have to ask for them and well they're not the easiest to use, and he ONLY helped him walk to the bathroom. Lol, I hope that got implied! 0_o xD**

**Kraut: We all know Alfred certainly didn't mind it either. x3**

**Lunatic Grey: Haha, he's just cheery in general, I guess! That and who wouldn't be happy while dating such a smexy Brit like Artie? Hehehe. Pffft, Alfred, act professional in his love life? Never. ;P**

**Guess we'll start now~ Enjoy!~**

The comfortable afternoon sunlight dappled the hospital garden with spots of light through the leaves of the short trees and bushes. It left the cool, late October air pleasant –not too cold, not too warm –and Alfred was taking full advantage of it.

He was currently stretched out on a low stone bench beneath the shade of well-manicured tree with his eyes shut to the sunlight.

Arthur, sitting not far off, thought he looked absolutely ridiculous; Alfred was grinning like an idiot and nearly swallowed up by his oversized clothing. The American was dressed in big, baggy sweatpants and nestled in his favorite dark hoodie that had the huge number fifty printed on the back –the very same one he'd been wearing when he had first landed in London.

Alfred was lying on his good side, using a rolled up crew shirt as a pillow against the stony arm of the bench.

The Brit sat beside said bench, absently thumbing the paper edges of the novel he'd been reading a few minutes ago. He was nearly finished with it, but, upon pausing to set the book down to check his phone, had noted the time; they'd been out in the garden for nearly three hours now.

The SIS agent glanced to the American on the bench. As if sensing the other man's eyes upon him, Alfred's lids fluttered open. He smiled down at Arthur.

"While I'll be glad to get out of here, I think I'm gonna miss this part," he said, nuzzling against the crew shirt.

"I'm not. The drive here is far too long!" Arthur complained. It really was a long commute. Every day Arthur would take an extremely extended lunch break to check up on the bedridden American. The Brit wasn't sure if it was out of pity or his general growing fascination with the wild CIA agent. The taller blond was certainly interesting to have to watch over.

The CIA was keeping Matthew as tied up as possible after the stunt he had pulled with an unauthorized venture on one of their jets. It seemed they didn't take kindly to Matthew's antics. Being constantly kept busy meant that the elder American didn't have as much time as he would have liked to keep an eye on his wily brother, so he had delegated the task to Arthur.

The emerald-eyed agent had been making the long drive back and forth from the SIS building to Basildon for nearly two weeks now. At least Alfred seemed to appreciate his company for the all the trouble Arthur went through.

The Brit glanced back at his partner.

"It's time we went back in," he announced, much to Alfred's dismay.

"Do we have to?"

Arthur snorted, rising to his feet.

"Yes, Alfred, we do. I've already let you overstay."

The American made a defiant noise in his throat, nestling deeper into the plush folds of his makeshift nest on the stone bench.

"No. We're not playing this ridiculous game, again," Arthur warned, glaring down at the American, who grinned up at him mischievously.

The Brit groaned. This had already happened once before. Alfred hated being bottled up in the tiny hospital room by himself. He'd passively resist Arthur for every second he could to avoid having to go back up there.

"What game?" The blue-eyed man asked innocently.

"Get up, or I will get you up, myself."

Alfred rolled his eyes, twisting to lie on his back and folding his arms behind his head with a cocky smirk.

"Go ahead," he taunted.

"Alfred, get up," Arthur ordered again, this time with much more authority in his voice; so much so that Alfred actually looked as if he might obey for a moment. That quickly vanished, though, as he loosed a sweet purr.

"Nope."

Gritting his teeth, Arthur glared death at the American currently besting him. The quick flicker of an idea crossed his mind then. He wouldn't let Alfred win.

"Fine, if that's how you wish to be. I'm late for returning to work anyway."

The Brit promptly turned on his heels, snatched up his book and started heading towards the garden exit.

Alfred bit his bottom lip as the shorter walked away. He' had been expecting Arthur to keep up their little game. He had never given up before and the blue-eyed agent didn't want him to leave.

Just before Arthur reached the doors, Alfred piped up.

"Hey wait, Artie!"

The SIS agent grinned in triumph when he heard the slight hint of a whine in the American's voice. He quickly turned his expression somber as he faced Alfred again.

"What now?"

Alfred carefully maneuvered himself into a sitting position. It had been a little less than two weeks, but the agent was still very much sore despite his boundless energy returning to him.

"Hang on. Wait for me!" The American grunted as he got to his feet. His sock clad heels gingerly touched to the ground and Arthur could plainly see it was very painful on his bruised ankle and battered limbs to stand and walk on his own.

The Brit huffed a sigh and walked back to his companion, wrapping his arm around Alfred's torso. The CIA agent flashed a thankful smile and leaned against Arthur heavily.

"Idiot, you should know better than that by now."

"Sometimes I forget stuff like that."

"How? It's bloody impossible in your condition!"

"Nah. Not for me."

Arthur shook his head with a sigh.

"Come along. The nurses are going to kill me for having you out this long."

Alfred nodded, allowing Arthur to lead him back into the brightly lit hospital ward and back to his room.

On the way up in the small elevator to the upper floors, Alfred detached himself from Arthur's arms to lean against the railing. The Brit rolled his shoulder, stretching the muscle out from having been pinned beneath Alfred's superior weight.

"Artie, would you mind staying until Mattie gets here?" Alfred inquired.

"Certainly not. I have work that needs to be done."

"Please! Besides, I'm getting discharged today! You can even take me home!" Alfred grinned hugely, dropping a wink just to see Arthur furrow his brows. It felt odd, Arthur realized, that Alfred referred to the Brit's flat as 'home.' The feeling was strange, but not ultimately unwelcome.

He very nearly shook himself for such thoughts. This was a temporary thing. _Alfred_was temporary. When the mission was over, the American twins would go home and Arthur would have the flat back to himself. He couldn't start letting such things get to his head so easily. The CIA agent's words were merely a slip of the tongue. Alfred had said it himself at the airport: he had no intention of sticking around in London any longer than he had to.

Still, maybe it was acceptable to indulge himself for now. With work, he didn't get around to dating much. Alfred was an easy, willing fix and amusing, even if a tad annoying.

He forced himself back to reality; these things could wait.

"I see you and your brother didn't feel it was necessary to inform me of this," the Brit growled back in annoyance.

"Sorry. I thought Mattie did," the blue-eyed blond admitted with a little shrug.

"An awfully quick discharge, as well," Arthur noted with suspicion.

"Well, they didn't find anything wrong on my tests and I did do a little _convincing_."

"Dear lord, what have you done?" The Englishman asked with a groan. "Please, assure me you managed to keep all of this 'convincing' above the waist."

"I did actually, and besides, I wouldn't do anything like that in a hospital! Well, not now at least …" Alfred leaned forward, planting a quick kiss on his partner's cheek. "Being taken has a few downfalls," he added with a quirky smile.

"I have my doubts…" The SIS agent smirked in good nature.

The elevator doors slid open and Alfred leaned back on Arthur as they made their way back to Alfred's room down the hall, past the nurses' station.

Arthur shut the door behind them with his heel and laid the American down onto the mattress.

Once he had Alfred settled and comfortable, the Brit sat himself down on the couch beside the bed. Pulling out his phone, he checked the time. It was nearing five in the afternoon. Matthew would be here within a couple of hours if he managed to finish his target workload for the day.

Arthur glanced sidelong at Alfred, who was watching him with bright, blue eyes intently.

"Fine, I'll stay. It would be pointless to drive back to work only to have to return almost immediately afterwards to take you home." And strictly for that reason, Arthur tried to rationalize to himself. Certainly not because he actually liked being around the cheery blond, no!

The CIA agent grinned triumphantly. He patted the bed, encouraging Arthur to come up and join him.

The emerald-eyed agent rose from one seat to sit on the next: the hospital mattress. It would have been pointless to deny Alfred such a simple thing. Over the short time they'd gotten to know each other, Arthur had truly begun to construct the ways Alfred seemed to work.

It was apparent that Alfred hated to lose. At anything. He was persistent –annoyingly so. Arthur had simply learned to adapt and know when it was fine to give in to the American. The smallest things seemed to light up the CIA agent's day and those tiny gestures made it easier to deny him something much larger when the time came.

Not all of it had come from observation; there just hadn't been enough time –Arthur had done some passive coaxing with Matthew. The elder American was, without a doubt, the easiest way to deal with Alfred. He seemed to have a firm grasp on Alfred's proverbial leash. Matthew seemed to enjoy it as well. He would drop little hints and advice whenever he was around the Brit like treats for a hungry dog.

Alfred tugged his partner's sleeve like a child begging for attention, dragging Arthur back to reality yet again.

"Hmm?"

"What time is it?"

"About five. We've got about two hours until Matthew arrives."

The American nodded, deciding to twine his fingers with Arthur's affectionately. The Brit glanced down at their hands. He was still adjusting to the unusual amount of affection the other agent showed. Alfred did anything and everything to be close to Arthur and seemed to really enjoy any physical contact.

He would have pondered it further had his phone not started to vibrate in his pocket. He untangled his fingers from the CIA agent's and pulled the phone out, answering once he recognized the number.

"Hello, Matthew."

Alfred grinned. He leaned closer, trying to hear his twin over the phone. Arthur nudged him back with an irritated scowl while he listened to Matthew speak. The American furrowed his brows and scoffed, but the Brit ignored him.

"Very well, we'll see you soon. Goodbye." He ended the call and slipped off the bed.

"So?" The blue-eyed agent prompted.

"You're in luck. Matthew managed to get his work done early. He's down on the lobby floor signing your papers now and he'll be up once he's done. He says to start collecting whatever isn't packed in the duffel bag. "

Arthur couldn't help but smile quietly when Alfred's bright blues lit up and a massive grin split his face. The excited CIA agent tried to hop from the bed in his hurry, but his bad ankle didn't respond well to the movement, and Alfred pitched forward with a startled yelp.

His smirk vanished in an instant as the American agent fell against emerald-eyed agent; Arthur grunted, stumbling back as his partner's weight knocked him off balance and sent them crashing onto the couch. The SIS agent winced when Alfred's fall caused him to slam his shoulder into Arthur's chin, rattling his teeth.

Alfred loosed a strained stream of curses as his sore, previously stitched muscles flexed and sent a sharp spike of pain up his spine.

"Ow…" he whined, burying against Arthur's hair as he bit his lip in pain.

"You fucking idiot!" The emerald-eyed agent snarled. "What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

Alfred's only response was to groan from the ache of his searing ankle and sore wounds.

The Brit growled a few more choice words at the American nearly crushing him, but Alfred didn't verbally bite back.

Instead, he pushed off on his good arm, rolling off of Arthur to brace his spine against the couch's firm backing. He curled his fingers beneath his hoodie, gingerly probing the barely healed wound on his belly. Luckily, the scar tissue was still intact, but the raw muscle beneath was stretched and painful. It was virtually the same scenario for the wound on his arm as well.

"Ow…" he repeated, tugging the sleeve back down.

"Well, you brought it upon yourself," Arthur sneered, propping up on his side. Still, he felt a worming feeling of sympathy crawl into thoughts. Alfred didn't look bitter in the slightest, even after the long strand of insults.

"I didn't mean to!" Alfred protested with an apologetic smile, which only earned him a scoff from the Brit beside him.

"That doesn't make it any better!"

"Oh, don't be so bitchy!" Alfred chuckled under his breath. Furrowing his brows in annoyance, Arthur glared death at the blue-eyed blond.

"I'm not being 'bitchy,' I'm merely stating the facts."

"Fine. Then kindly stop pointing them out. It makes you sound bitchy when you do." Alfred sat up, using his good arm for support so that he was eye-level with his partner.

"Oh, shut it! You-"

Arthur was cut off by Alfred's mouth pressed against his own in a quick but passionate kiss. When the American drew back, he smirked.

"There. I win."

"Like hell you have," Arthur responded and leaned in quickly to press a challenging kiss to the other man's lips. Alfred returned the gesture with the gusto Arthur was much more familiar with in Alfred's sexual demeanor. It sent a burning spark into his belly, kindling a small flame as their tongues began to mesh in their mouths.

Alfred had honestly missed this. Nearly two weeks without anything more than a quick peck on the lips from his new boyfriend had been disappointing to say the least.

The fire flared up as Arthur hooked his leg over the CIA agent and straddled his waist, never breaking the furious kiss. It forced Alfred on to his back and gave Arthur a much better access to his lover's mouth.

He was forced to adjust his weight, however, when he felt Alfred hiss against his mouth when Arthur had put his weight on the damage-strained area of his lower abdomen. It was a little less comfortable but the Brit could forget that easily, especially with the way Alfred's hands were creeping up his back, beneath his shirt. The American's shortly-cropped nails sent shivers up the SIS agent's spine as they trailed across his skin.

Arthur didn't get the chance to do any more than slip the hoodie off his lover's chest before the door to the hospital room clicked open. Both agents looked to the door in horror.

Matthew shut the door behind him and glared down at his brother and Arthur.

Neither of the caught agents dared to say anything beneath the elder American's stern leer. A tense, awkward silence followed, completely putting out the proverbial fire between the both of them.

"While I can't say I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner, it doesn't mean I approve," Matthew said, bending to pick up the discarded hoodie on the floor and tossing it to his twin. Alfred caught it with a sheepish grin.

"But by all means, if you two want to do your business in a cold, public hospital room, then go ahead," he teased.

"I think we're quite done here," Arthur growled out, adjusting his rumpled clothing. He was a bit vexed about being interrupted, but it was probably for the better now that the lusty fire Alfred seemed to fan wasn't hazing his rationale. The American wasn't exactly in the best physical state, and anything more than what they'd been doing would probably have ended in a painful disaster.

The Brit moved off his partner, trying to hide an embarrassed blush on his cheeks. It didn't help when Alfred unabashedly leaned up and kissed his companion's burning cheek sweetly.

Matthew groaned.

"Let's go, love birds. I don't want to be in this hospital another minute."

"Sorry, bro," Alfred chimed and carefully got up to slip his beloved hoodie back over his torso.

"Please tell me everything's packed?"

"Nope!" The younger chimed with broad grin.

Matthew sighed, moving to start the small process of collecting the few things that still weren't tucked in the duffle bag: blankets, a cell phone charger, and a variety of other creature comforts.

Once they had everything together, Arthur hung the bag's strap over his shoulder and went ahead of the two brothers. Alfred leaned on his brother like a crutch as they exited the room and the hospital to return to Arthur's flat.

**`*.:Risico:.*`**

Mathais slicked his fingers through his gelled hair as he walked down the corridor of the warehouse office with Tino at his side. The shabby walls showed it was one of their less than desirable places to store their wares, but even so, Yao insisted on using every ounce of their resources to its fullest.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Tino," the taller offered with a shrug.

"You don't know how to worry," the Fin retorted, trying to keep the bitter tone out of his voice as he repeated Berwald's earlier statement.

The Dane laughed.

"So? The less you worry, the more time you have to be awesome! Besides, with Gil in Detroit we'll get back on schedule and Yao will be back to his usual self. Give it a couple weeks and he'll probably forget about the whole thing!" He offered, but Tino merely shrugged, splitting off from Mathais and going down another corridor.

"Yao never forgets…anything," Tino murmured to himself, hoping to find Berwald in one of the other passage rooms. All of them were downtown trying to sort this warehouse's items out for shipping later in the week: all, save for Norge, who was faithfully guarding Yao's office.

Even though the big Swede was typically leering and rarely showed his inner playfulness, the Fin found he was the best cure when these melancholy moods hit him. Something about the way Berwald would listen to his problems no matter what time of day it was, or how he never minded when Tino would follow him around no matter the task, was a comfort.

Anyone else, and Tino would have been fairly uncomfortable. Kiku didn't exactly respond to Tino the way the Fin hoped, leaving awkward silences. Norge was too aloof for the much cheerier pale blond. There was always Mathais, but listening to him brag about himself grew annoying rather quickly. Gilbert wasn't so bad, but he had the same narcissistic issues as Mathais.

He liked them, very much so, but he had favoritism for Berwald.

Checking the first room he came upon, Tino was delighted to find the Swede missing his coat and dress shirt, stacking a hefty crate atop another to gain access to the one underneath it. The broad curve of his strong shoulders glistened with sweat, plastering his white undershirt to his chest. He paused to wipe the sweat from his brow before noticing Tino standing in the doorway. The taller offered a little nod of his head in greeting, and then knelt to shuffle through the contents of the crate.

The Fin strutted up behind his friend, looking over his shoulder.

"What's this shipment?" He inquired.

Berwald paused his hands, glancing back over his shoulder. He pulled something from the crate and tossed it toward the Fin. Tino caught it easily. Turning it over in his hands he read the label on the small vial.

"Propofol?"

Berwald nodded.

"Shipm'nt fo'r Amste'rd'm th't's goin' t' n'ed t' be driven t' the p'rt in 'bout a w'ek. S'ems l'ke they w'nt'd s'me 'f eve'rythin'. Et'mid'te, D'merol, 'ven Chlor'f'rm."

Tino cocked his brows.

"They certainly won't be in any kind of pain," he observed, kneeling beside his Swedish friend, who merely grunted in response.

They spent the rest of the evening sorting through the various crates of anesthetics. Tino chatted comfortably and Berwald responded with his typical mumbled phrases, but he was glad for the smaller man's company. It made the grunt work seem less demeaning and passed the time much more quickly in the poorly ventilated storeroom.

**More SuFin bonding! Yay! ;D All the drugs listed are intravenous painkillers. Often what they use for surgery or pre-surgery, and they'll really knock you out. They can be easily be fatal in the wrong dosage. Nice and fun, right?**


	16. Diplomacy

**Risico**

**Chapter 16: Diplomacy**

**Long ass chapter is long... lol**

**Just to make for the fact I spent forever to update. :P Sorry! I hope everyone had a great thanksgiving and avoided a trip to the hospital on black Friday. ;)**

**Yeah, yeah, I'm time skipping here, also...enjoy the smut... ;)**

**Reviews:**

**ilovesmilingfools: Lol, that's too perfect! xD**

**aerrow4eva: Oh, Mattie walking in on them would be the best! :P**

**Inkaugneato: I shall sate thee, now. ;) Read on, my dear!**

**blackcat: It must. ;)**

**Funky Bracelet Chick: *highfive for Detroit* That is crazy though! o_0 and ...duh... It's Gil, of course he's the bad-ass awesome king of Detroit. ;)**

**German Food: grab your hot chocolate my friend, this one's a show. ;)**

**Bella: Hurray! ^^**

**Kay: Lol, my secret of Berwald...yes, feel bad for Mattie. He's just got no luck when it come to his crazy twin. xD And when you're that good looking, you don't need points. You've already won. ;) Lol, bad mental images with that jungle gym reference xD LOL**

**2 Months later…**

Alfred woke to the sound of the alarm set on his cellphone blaring from the bedside table. He had to reach over Arthur, who groggily ignored the alarm, to turn the noisy device off. He whispered an apology in the Brit's ear before kissing his cheek. It was Saturday, and Alfred had forgotten to turn off his phone alarm the previous night.

Once it all had gone quiet again, the blue-eyed agent draped his arm back around his partner's middle while nuzzling into the other's hair.

"Don't we have to drive your brother to the airport?" Arthur mumbled into the pillow, but made no move to escape Alfred's arms.

"Probably." Alfred agreed, smiling into the golden locks. He gave Arthur a light, affectionate squeeze, drawing the Brit closer to bring their natural body heat together. His chest was to Arthur's back without an inch space between them underneath the covers.

"When?"

"Later."

Arthur scoffed. He really didn't want to leave the warmth of the bed for the outside cold anyway.

The chill of their flat had become normal as the months had passed. It was currently late December, with Christmas quickly approaching.

Alfred couldn't help but grin at the thought. Even though he'd been denied leave to return to the States to spend Christmas with the family, it wasn't so bad, because he could share it with Arthur now. That and his physical therapist had told him flying wasn't advisable so shortly after his injuries had healed.

Matthew was scheduled to return to America this afternoon. Alfred almost envied him, but then again, Mattie wouldn't be sharing his Christmas wrapped up under the warm covers with a lovely, incredibly sexy Brit of his own. A faint chuckle escaped the CIA agent's throat.

"What's so funny?" Arthur inquired with a hint of suspicion in his tone.

"Mmm, nothing…" The American muttered. He felt Arthur shift a bit, then settle more comfortably against the taller.

A sharp knock reverberated on their bedroom door. Arthur growled low in his throat.

"Send your blasted brother away. I refuse to get up this early on a Saturday." He whispered.

"Come in, Mattie!"

Alfred winced as the door opened and Arthur simultaneously jabbed an elbow into his chest. The taller sat up, rubbing the tender spot with a grimace on his lips. Arthur snickered triumphantly before he sat up as well.

Matthew leaned against the doorframe of their bedroom with a brow cocked.

"It's nothing," Alfred explained, letting his hand fall back to his lap, "really."

The elder American looked doubtful, but didn't bother to probe further.

"Were you two love birds every planning to get up? I do have a plane to catch, you know." He jested.

Alfred grinned deviously at him before looping his arms around Arthur's waist. He dragged the emerald-eyed agent into his lap to hug him tightly. The Brit squawked in surprise, struggling uselessly against Alfred's strong arms.

"Nope. You'll have to drive yourself, Mattie." The younger twin teased, petting Arthur's hair even as the Brit dug his nails into Alfred's arm in protest.

The elder CIA agent shook his head.

When he'd first arrived in London, Matthew had been a bit suspicious of Arthur and Alfred's relationship. Naturally, he had assumed it was just another of the countless flings his brother was notorious for. His normal brotherly instinct was to instantly distrust Arthur as well. He always worried for Alfred; that maybe his brother would accidentally become attached to one of his flings and get his heart broken. It had been Matthew's initial assumption: that was until he had met Arthur face to face. When the elder American had seen the distress written so plainly on the Brit's face at the hospital it had reassured the CIA agent of most of his fears. Now, watching Alfred playfully tease Arthur, dispelled all his worry. The fact that Arthur put up with it, if rather begrudgingly, was the proverbial icing on the cake.

"You two are ridiculous." Matthew sighed. Alfred laughed mirthfully while Arthur started a long stream of grumbled insults. He had given up struggling, resigning to allowing Alfred to perch his chin atop his head and cradling the Brit like a teddy bear.

"When exactly does your plane leave again?"

"In less than two hours. It's an hour to get there, and I do want to be early, so I'm giving you ten minutes to drag your asses out of bed and get ready." Matthew announced before shutting the door behind him, leaving the lovers alone.

Alfred loosed an airy sigh over the top of Arthur's head.

"Looks like we're getting up, Saturday or not."

"Damn you brother for ruining a perfectly good Saturday morning." Arthur grumbled, crawling off his partner's lap. He rose from the bed to stretch. The muscles of his back and shoulders flexed beneath his pale skin neatly. Alfred couldn't help but admire the lithe network of sinew with a hungry gaze.

"It's impolite to stare."

"I just can't help myself, but it's not like you mind."

Arthur chuckled before extending his hand to help his blue-eyed paramour off the bed. Alfred took it, stretching as well.

"So since Mattie has only given us ten minutes, mind sharing the shower with me?" Inquired with a sly smirk.

The Brit narrowed his eyes.

"Don't try anything, git. We simply don't have time."

Alfred faked emotional hurt, clasping his hands to his heart dramatically.

"I'm offended that you'd even think I'd try something like that."

The SIS agent slugged the American's arm rather roughly, but loosed a low chuckle.

"You can be offended all you like, but I know what you were thinking."

"Maybe after we drop Mattie off?"

"I'll consider it." The Brit teased as he sauntered into the bathroom. Alfred trailed after him with a wicked grin. 'I'll consider it' would mean 'yes' if he had anything to say about it during their shower.

***~.:Risico:.~***

Matthew repeated his list of all the things Alfred absolutely had to do in his absence once more as they checked in the elder American's luggage.

"Make sure you call mom on Christmas. She's pissed that your aren't coming back stateside with me."

"Uh-huh." Alfred affirmed.

"And don't forget to call your physical therapist to change that appointment. It's going to clash with Director Peter's meeting."

"Sure." The younger nodded, making sure the airline tags were secured on Matthew's suitcase.

"Also, Aunt Peggy-"

"Mattie." Alfred interjected. "It's cool, bro. I'm not gonna forget anything."

Matthew scoffed.

"I don't believe that: not for one damned minute." The elder twin glanced to Arthur, who was watching them, eyes glittering with amusement. "Arthur agrees with me, don't you?"

"No, he doesn't! Artie's on my side, and don't you dare try to turn him!"

The Brit snickered.

"I think I have to chose the voice of reason over you, my love." Arthur announced. He looked sidelong at indigo-eyed man. "Worry not, Matthew. I'll be sure to keep him in check."

Alfred looked annoyed that his boyfriend was a turncoat, but offered a playfully devilish smirk to his partner, as if to say Arthur would regret it later. The Brit's emerald eyes met his with a challenge.

"Anyway, just be careful, alright? You may think you're healed but I still want you to take it easy. I'll only be gone a week, but I know you can find trouble in that short period of time." Matthew sounded sincerely concerned for his younger twin.

"Mattie, relax. I'm not a kid, y'know? I'll be fine. Oh, and call me when you land at Newark."

"Fine." The elder American sighed heavily, shrugging his shoulders. He collected his carry-on luggage before turning towards the security check.

"Bye Al! Bye Arthur! Have fun, you two!" He teased with a little wave before vanishing into the throng of the crowd that cluttered London International.

Alfred turned back to his partner.

"I think I like that."

"Like what?" Arthur asked, a puzzled look on his visage.

The CIA agent leaned close to his lover.

"I like that you called me 'my love'. It sounds kinda sweet."

The Englishman blushed a dark crimson. Arthur hadn't exactly registered that he'd said that aloud. It had slipped off his tongue as easily as it did in his mind by mistake. The Brit realized that it was becoming more and more difficult to bay his affections for Alfred with each passing day. Just how the CIA agent had wormed his way into his heart, Arthur wasn't sure.

He met Alfred's eyes for a moment. They were a clear, entrancing blue that shimmered with deep affection. The Brit could have gotten lost in those eyes if he hadn't wrenched his gaze away to feebly try to respond to his companion.

"Yes, well…"

The blue-eyed blond looped his arm with Arthur's, not caring about the odd looks he received from the crowd. Arthur seemed a bit uncomfortable with the rather open display of affection but eventually relaxed into it as they made their way through the airport. At least it changed the subject.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me again."

"Why do you sound rather cheerful about that?"

"Oh, no reason." Alfred sing-songed. "Only that it's going to be a lot easier to get you alone with Mattie out of the apartment." He dropped his partner a suggestive wink, pulling him a bit closer.

Arthur snorted. Even if Alfred could be incredibly sweet and affectionate, the sexual libido he flaunted was just as strong.

"You're a pig." He said, pulling the keys to the Astra from his coat pocket as they approached the vehicle. He shoved Alfred away.

The taller agent shrugged off the less than malicious insult as he climbed into the passenger side of the vehicle.

"You never seem to mind." Alfred pointed out. He leaned across the center consul to place a sweet kiss on Arthur's cheek. The Brit swatted at his partner with a faint blush creeping high on his cheeks.

"Shut it!" Arthur growled, twisting the key in the ignition to bring the Astra to life. He pulled out of the parking spot, following the airport signs to the main road.

***~.:Risico:.~***

Arthur flung the keys onto the foyer table as he entered the apartment. They hit the surface with a loud clatter and slid off the end to spill onto the floor.

Arthur grit his teeth when Alfred laughed raucously behind him.

The blue-eyed agent bent to pick up the keys. He had a sly smile on his lips as he reached up to deposit them in their rightful place.

"I don't like that look." Arthur observed from above.

Still crouched, Alfred suddenly lunged at his partner. He tackled the startled SIS agent at the knees, sending them both sprawling to the floor.

"What the Hell was that, Jones?" Arthur snarled as Alfred pinned his wrists on either side of his head. He hungrily captured the Brit's lips in a sloppy kiss.

"A little spur of the moment passion." Alfred informed when he pulled away for breath.

"You can let me go of my arms now." Arthur glanced at his pinned wrists. He licked his lips, still able to taste the American's lingering kiss.

"I don't know about that; you might try to get away." The CIA purred into his partner's ear.

Arthur smirked.

"Now why would I do that?"

Alfred was about to respond, but the emerald-eyed blond twisted to escape Alfred's grip. He flipped Alfred on to his back, straddling his hips with a cocky, triumphant grin painting his lips.

The American rumbled a low chuckle, settling his hands on Arthur's thighs. He didn't mind taking the small loss if it meant keeping Arthur playing their little game, for now at least.

"Seems as though I've won this round. Now then-"

Bucking his hips, Alfred sent his partner off balance. He leaned up, grabbing the shorter's wrists again, then rolled to the side: once more pinning Arthur beneath him.

"Nice try, Artie, but it's my turn to top anyway."

"Who ever said we were taking turns. Besides, I said I'd consider it. I have yet to make my decision."

"I did. Besides, you were defiantly saying 'yes' in the shower. It's only fair."

"Life isn't fair." Arthur smirked dangerously before throwing all his weight up to reverse their positions for the final time. He jabbed a finger beneath Alfred's chin, tilting his face up.

"Now then, let's stop with these silly games. You and I both know we could do this all day with our close combat training."

The blue-eyed American couldn't help but laugh as he resigned. He relaxed beneath Arthur. The emerald-eyed man drew back his hand, leaning forward to kiss Alfred.

They kissed, hot and heavy, as their hands began to roam each other's bodies.

Alfred's fingers immediately slipped down Arthur's body to flip open the button and zipper on the SIS agent's pants, while Arthur's tugged at the frayed edges of his partner's beloved hoodie. With a few cooperative movements, Alfred assisted in shrugging it off over his shoulders.

Alfred shifted again to squirm out of his undershirt.

Arthur pressed roughly against him, pushing his tongue into Alfred's willing mouth. The carpet itched along his shoulder blades as they tangled and made-out on the floor.

"Could we take this to the couch, or maybe the bed? While I don't mind sex on the floor, I'm not sure I'll enjoy the rug burn quite as much." The CIA agent commented, feeling the rough carpet scrape along his bare back again.

Arthur let him up without protest. He hadn't exactly wanted to shag Alfred on the floor of his flat anyway, since he hadn't vacuumed the place in quite sometime. He headed towards the bedroom while Alfred picked himself up to follow.

The Brit wasn't prepared for yet another tackling from his companion.

Alfred threw them both to the bed, sprawled out over top his lover. He Arthur bent over the bed at his middle with his arms pinned by a hug from behind. He _tsk-_ed into Arthur's ear.

"That's twice now I've caught you off guard. Are my devilishly good looks that disarming?"

"Don't be so modest, Alfred. Maybe I just let you pin me?"

"I doubt it." Alfred dismissed. He kissed the arch of the SIS agent's jaw. He decided that it would be acceptable to free their arms to run his hands down the Brit's sides. As his fingers trailed lower, he gripped his sandy-haired partner's waist. He pressed Arthur a little harder against the bed.

"Don't think it's going to be that easy, Jones." The Englishman growled back, feeling the smoldering fire begin to flare up in his gut.

"It never is with you." Alfred admitted, successfully keeping a hold on Arthur even as the Brit tried to worm out from under him. He tried pushing back, but Alfred's bulk and his own uselessly pinned arms weren't enough to throw the American's weight.

"Let me up, Alfred! I refuse to take it from you!"

"Now look at the situation you're in. You really think you're in any position to argue?" The American mocked playfully. He licked the shell of Arthur's ear. "Sound familiar?"

Arthur grumbled something into coverlet, but stopped struggling. Surprised, Alfred slowly relaxed his grip, but stayed overtop his boyfriend.

"Artie?" The blue-eyed agent inquired hopefully.

"Fine, but don't expect this to become the norm." Arthur mumbled begrudgingly.

Alfred smiled softly, delighted in triumph. Humming a faint tune, he worked Arthur out of his clothing. The Brit cooperated for the most part, turning to lie on his back. Alfred placed a soft kiss on his lips.

The American stepped out of the rest of his garb then soothingly skimmed his hands down the emerald-eyed agent's sides.

"Just relax. I'm actually pretty good at this, y'know."

"Don't coddle me like some virgin, Jones." Arthur growled back softly.

"I'm not, but damn you're tense." He pressed his thumbs into the taut, hard flesh of Arthur's gut for emphasis.

Arthur flushed.

"I'm not exactly used to being like this." He explained, avoiding Alfred's eyes.

"I can tell, considering how much you fought me." The American kissed the emerald-eyed agent's cheek. "You want me to be gentle?"

The Brit blushed an even brighter scarlet, knotting his brows in a scowling grimace.

"I want you to shut up and do whatever you're going to do already! This is embarrassing!"

"Alright, alright!" Alfred jested, tousling his partner's hair before pushing Arthur further up on the bed. He grabbed one the pillows, placing it under Arthur to ease the pressure on his partner's hips and back.

They returned to their earlier kissing, tongues exploring mouths while hands roamed and touched freely. All the while, Alfred kept trying to sooth the tense Englishman beneath him with easier, slower strokes than their frenzied touches earlier. The pads of his fingers over Arthur's chest and sides made the fire in Brit's belly ignite.

The motions tediously began to work the more they kissed and slid against each other. The anxiety was replaced with desire. Alfred smiled into a particularly blissful kiss.

"What?" Arthur asked, panting softly.

The American didn't answer with words, but skimmed a hand down the SIS agent's torso. The pads of his fingers teased Arthur's hard cock with scorching trails that made the shorter throw back his head with a sharp hiss.

The CIA agent continued to work his partner's cock with nimble fingers while he captured Arthur's lips in another hot kiss.

Arthur tangled his fingers into the taller's fallow-tinted locks, drawing him in closer. He bucked against Alfred's hand with a fiery need. His jaws parted in a breathy whine that was like music to Alfred's senses.

The American grabbed Arthur's hips, holding him firmly as he leaned over to yank open the drawer of the bedside table. He rummaged through it, growling when the Astroglide lubricant somehow managed to avoid him. Finally, his fingers brushed it. He hooked his digits around the purple tube, pulling it out and loosing a triumphant cry.

Arthur watched his blue-eyed partner spread the clear, thick substance over his long fingers with an unusual fascination. It wasn't nearly as attractive when those lube-covered digits were still chilling inside of him, however. The Brit shivered, squirming at the unpleasant feeling.

"Sorry." Alfred apologized, pressing in another finger to hopefully distract Arthur.

"_Fuck!_ It's cold!"

_Well that didn't work. _Alfred rolled his eyes.

"It can't be that bad, Artie."

"You shut your mouth! It-" He suddenly gasped in pleasure. Alfred smirked deviously. He had found that special spot he'd been hoping to distract Arthur with.

"You were saying?"

"Do that again!" Arthur ordered, throwing his head back in pleasure when Alfred obeyed.

The American continued to stretch and tease his companion until Arthur was reduced to a squirming, mewling mess beneath him.

Arthur's half-lidded eyes narrowed further when Alfred's fingers retreated to slick his cock with a bit more lube. The Brit whined at the loss of contact.

Alfred leaned forward to kiss his boyfriend's brow in reassurance. He nudged Arthur's thighs apart a bit more to accommodate himself.

"Ready?"

Arthur nodded in a haze, the fire in his belly raging.

The blue-eyed agent pushed himself inside, rumbling a pleased purr at the hot, tight feeling. The shorter loosed his own low, shaky moan. He was indefinitely grateful for the liberal amount of lubrication and amount of stretching Alfred had used. It still hurt some, but he tried not to focus on that.

"Relax. You're tight." Alfred murmured into his ear as he paused. His flushed body shook while he waited for Arthur to get used to the feeling.

The Brit drew in a few deep breaths and closed his eyes to help relax. He couldn't help but tense up again when Alfred tried to push in further, but not nearly as much before.

Alfred kissed him again once he was fully inside his lover.

Arthur let his eyes open again to stare into Alfred's bright blues. This time, he let the deep azures draw him to trap him. It was much easier to let his body meld peaceably with the American's while enchanted by those warm, affectionate orbs.

He eased into the slow but deep pace Alfred started. The occasional sharp pain that shot up his spine was a bit discomforting, but the pleasure offset that.

The blue-eyed agent smiled at the hazy way Arthur watched him. It was endearing and Alfred couldn't help but dip to kiss him passionately. Their kiss muffled Arthur's loud cry of pleasure when his lover found that same acute spot from earlier.

The American thrust for it again. He enjoyed the chorus of pleasured cries and mewls that Arthur loosed each time he hit that sweet spot.

Panting hard, Arthur felt a final shaking cry tear from his lungs when he came to a particularly strong thrust. He dug his nails into Alfred's shoulders when the blue-eyed agent followed close behind, releasing into the Brit with a rumbling moan on his lips.

"Alfred…" Arthur panted his lover's name softly. The CIA agent smiled, pulling out as they moved to lay side-by-side.

"Yeah…?"

"We ought to do that again sometime…"

"You liked it?"

"I did." The Brit confirmed, the fire in his gut having been satisfied and tamed for the time being.

Alfred grinned broadly, having almost completely regained his breath.

"Awesome." He glanced between them, noting the mess across their sweat soaked torsos. "C'mon, let's go get cleaned up. We can spend the rest of the day under the covers, couldn't we?"

Arthur certainly wasn't about to object to either proposal. He braced his hands on the bed to get up. He winced at the slight pain that ran straight to his tailbone when he did.

"I think it would be best if we did, actually."

Laughing, Alfred got off the bed, ushering Arthur into the bathroom with him. While he waited for the water in the shower to warm, he leaned against the counter top.

Arthur sighed, leaning his weight against Alfred's broad chest. He enjoyed the way Alfred skimmed his fingers gently up and down his arm while they waited. He was still a bit hazy from the sex, but was more than cogent enough to hear his cellphone ringing from the bedroom.

The American scowled, one of the few times Arthur had ever seen a look of discontent on his face.

"Ignore it." Alfred said, his voice still even and sweet despite his expression.

"What if it's important?"

"You're more important."

Arthur blinked, a bit stunned. He looked up at Alfred, who smiled back down at him.

"Stupid git…" Arthur grumbled, feeling as he had at the airport, only this time a bit more decisive.

"Maybe, but whoever it is, they can wait."

"No, it could be the SIS." Arthur reasoned, unhitching himself from his American paramour.

Alfred watched him go with a sad sigh, having completely forgotten about the hot water that was steaming the tiny bathroom.

The Brit understood his lover's disappointment, but when he'd been first employed with the SIS they'd asked him to take a vow: to put the agency above his personal life and he was sure Alfred had had to make the same vow as well. He still had an obligation to that.

The shorter agent rummaged through the folds of his discarded pants to search for his cellphone.

He found it just before the call went to his voicemail and answered with a hoarse voice,

"Hello?"

_"Agent Kirkland, you sound sick."_

"No, Evie, I'm fine. Is something the matter?"

_"We need you and Alfred to come to HQ immediately."_

Arthur sighed heavily.

"Very well. We'll be there soon."

The line clicked. Arthur tossed the phone onto the bed before returning to the bathroom.

He grabbed Alfred's wrist, dragging him into the shower.

"Come along, we have to make this quick. Evie needs us at the SIS building."

"Told you; you shouldn't have answered."

"Perhaps next time I'll listen." Arthur offered, adjusting the water temperature to mediate between their personal preferences. Alfred liked the water hot enough to leave his skin flushed while the Brit leaned towards a bit above lukewarm.

"I doubt it." Alfred grumbled, but offered a good-natured smile as they bathed and got ready to spend their Saturday afternoon at work.

**Done... now off to work. I get to clean up the black Friday mess, yay! :,D**


	17. The Impending Storm

**Risico**

**Chapter 17: The Impending Storm**

**Beta'd by Trumpet-Geek**

**Hey peeps! Back again! ^^**

**I have a favor to ask y'all. There is a poll on my profile. Please go participate in it. It's really simple, only two answer choices! ;) Thanks!**

**Reviews:**

**denise134: Yay!**

**ilovesmilingfools: Hehe, he's got his tricks. ;)**

**Funky Bracelet Chick: :D Mattie's gotta watch out for 'em with Al around.**

**Trumpet-Geek: xD Try explaining that away with a doctor's note!**

**aerrow4eva: *Bows* thanks! I really hate that (when people make him a little bitch). ;)**

**mockingbird: Well hello there! About time you started reading this! We've gone through all that, though. ;)**

**Kay: Lol, you'll get Mattie back soon, no worries. ;)**

**Bella: Huzzah! :D**

**blackcat: Lol, they'd get nothing at all done if they had their way. ;)**

**On to the show!**

"Did she say exactly why she wanted to ruin our Saturday?" Alfred inquired with a low whine in his voice.

"No. She just said she needed us there immediately," Arthur responded tartly as he wiggled a sock over his left foot. Alfred was already dressed, having forgone a tie or even bothering to smooth out the wrinkles in his white dress shirt.

The American sighed, running his fingers through his still slightly damp locks.

"Have I mentioned I really hate going to work on my days off?"

"That's the third time since we bathed," Arthur growled back before slipping his shoes on.

Alfred huffed an obnoxious sigh while the Brit tied his laces. He tapped his foot impatiently, annoyed, azure eyes focused on Arthur.

"Could you hurry up?"

Arthur glanced up at him with a pointed glare, eyes narrowing with disdain. He quickly returned to tying his shoes, and once finished, rose from the plush, scarlet couch.

"Come along, git," he teased, pushing past the American to collect his keys from the foyer table. Alfred followed after, dreading the off-schedule workday ahead.

***~.:Risico:.~***

Alfred glanced at the brightly lit screen of his phone to check the time as they walked into the lobby elevator of the SIS building. It was just past noon, and Alfred felt his stomach tighten in hunger.

"Tell me this place has somewhere to eat?" The blue-eyed agent inquired.

"After we talk with Evie, we'll find something for lunch," Arthur appeased, folding his arms before his chest while they waited for the elevator to rise to the sixth floor.

Alfred grinned.

"She'd better make this quick."

"Doubtful," Arthur snorted. He stepped out from behind the sliding metal doors with Alfred on his heels once they'd reached their destination. It only took a quick glance for the Brit's emerald gaze to catch his boss' form by his office door.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Ashdown," Arthur spoke in a flat tone as they approached. Alfred offered the woman a smile and a little wave of his fingers. She didn't reciprocate either.

"Go to the West auditorium. The Director is already waiting for you both," she ordered crisply, with her cold, glass-blue eyes narrowed.

The Englishman cocked an ample brow, but didn't question her. He turned, ushering his partner back towards the elevator.

"That was rude…and so much for lunch," Alfred grumbled under his breath just loud enough for Arthur to hear.

"That was friendly, given her usual mood."

The American snickered, flashing a grin at his partner. They rode the elevator up a few more floors in relative, companionable silence afterwards.

The doors slid back, revealing Director Peter waiting for them.

Arthur swallowed hard. An eerie, displeasing feeling settled in the pit of his stomach when he observed the solemn expression on Peter's visage. He glanced sidelong at Alfred, noting that the American seemed to be feeling the same uncomfortable aura he was.

Peter silently beckoned them to follow with a quick flick of his wrist. The two agents obeyed without question. They were brought into one of the building's dark auditorium rooms where a tall, white screen was drawn down, but no images were currently displayed on it.

A few other agents were scattered in various seats set up in the room. Arthur recognized most of them as the surveillance agents also assigned to the case. None of them looked at all pleased to be here.

Alfred and Arthur chose a pair of seats farther back from the screen, hidden almost entirely in the darkness.

The heavy doors to the room shut with a thunderous noise that made Arthur's hackles stand on end. The already dim lights fluttered out completely, leaving the room completely black, save for the glowing patches of light emitting from the dispersed agents' phones.

Peter had stepped up to stand just beside the massive screen. He cleared his throat obviously to call the agents' attention to him.

"I know you all probably aren't thrilled about having been called in like this on such short notice. However, I promise it is vital that you all are here," he started, projecting his voice expertly.

"Hey, Artie?" Alfred whispered, nudging his companion.

"What?"

"I don't like this…" The blue-eyed agents trailed off. Arthur merely nodded before answering.

"Neither do I."

Peter continued once he was sure he had the sparse audience's attention.

"As I'm sure you all know, the collaborative trial mission with the CIA has been anything but smooth." His eyes alighted on the two blond agents near the back for a moment before he continued.

"I regret to inform you that things have become increasingly worse." Peter fished in his coat pocket for the small device that controlled the screen's projector. A beam of bright light made the screen come to life with the gruesome image of what appeared to be a murder scene.

"The CIA has just recently informed me of a complete disaster in their Detroit operation.

"Three assets made, and brutally executed. A team of agents were sent in to rescue them before their bodies were discovered. All were killed, and their corpses sent back to their families in body bags," Peter explained with a dark air.

Beside him, Arthur felt Alfred go rigid. He spared a glance at the American to see a concerned frown painting his lips. His emerald gaze flicked back to Peter when the director went on.

"Only one of the assets was ours, the others belonged to the CIA. Still, this is a terrible tragedy, and very likely a warning. These murders occurred in the heart of Detroit: the base of Yao's American operation. After conferring with the CIA's director, we can say without a doubt that Yao's people committed these atrocities.

"It seems they're very much aware of our internal interference in the Unites States. Whether they are aware of the scope of our knowledge on them in London remains a mystery, though."

"This is a critical period," Peter announced. "As it stands, I feel as though we are in the perfect position to get around their guards now."

"How so?" An auburn haired agent inquired. Her tone was clearly skeptic.

"Over the months of observations, our compiled knowledge gives us a clear advantage. We have mapped out their travel routes, warehouses, and have worked a few confessions out of their people. We know who leads who, and their chain of command. We can strike them at their core. We need to utilize this time while we have it."

"And exactly what time is that, Director?" Arthur chimed in.

"They're gloating over their victory." He clicked a button on the remote. The screenshot of an email appeared, replacing the grisly murder scene. "This was sent to the CIA, detailing the method of execution. It goes on to flaunt how superior and 'awesome' their intelligence network is to ours," Peter said with distaste.

"They think they've won, and that just because we have suffered a loss that we will retreat. They think they've worn us down, with how many setbacks we've suffered."

"Don't make this a matter of revenge, Peter," the emerald-eyed agent warned. "We don't have the delegated resources for such a thing on a trial case. I'm surprised the CIA hasn't dropped this catastrophe already."

"They won't now," Alfred mumbled. "They'll be out for blood."

"I don't intend to, Agent Kirkland." The director's eyes settled on the somber American beside his agent.

"Agent Jones."

Alfred met Peter's eyes.

"I think it's time we used these acclaimed talents of yours. The CIA has encouraged me to insert you as our proverbial Trojan horse."

"You want me to become an asset for this mission," Alfred stated, his blue eyes shimmering with understanding.

"Exactly. I will brief you further in private, but for now, know that you will need to be ready very soon."

Peter redirected his speech to include everyone in the room.

"As to everyone else, I need you to stay vigilant. I don't want to lose anyone else," he said with a grave expression. When no one objected, the director nodded.

"You are dismissed," Peter announced, and then looked to Alfred. He made a gesture, indicating the American was to follow him.

The CIA agent rose from his seat, giving Arthur a parting glance before obeying.

While the other agents filed out of the auditorium's heavy double doors, Peter lead the blue-eyed American towards a door tucked at the rear of the room.

It led into a brightly lit, but tiny, square alcove. A plastic folding table and some chairs were set in the center while numerous folders and sheets of paper were stacked neatly on the table.

"Take a seat, Agent Jones," Peter motioned to one of the chairs before sitting. Alfred mirrored him, clasping his hands in his lap.

Peter pushed one of the folders to Alfred.

"This will be your cover," he said, tapping the folder's undecorated front. When he withdrew his hand, Alfred opened the overstuffed folder. Leafing through the pages, he silently glanced over the new information that he would be issued: a new name, new ID, new occupation, new credit cards, and new passport.

"You'll be one Yao's Detroit people coming into London. We'll arrange it to make it appear as if you've just gotten off the plane when you meet with them."

"When?" Alfred inquired, still looking through the information.

"Christmas night. A man named 'Berwald' will be picking you up from the airport. Your cover is that you've been in the smuggling crime rings for years. They'll trust you, since your information will be perfectly valid. We've already made sure this cover is through the system. All you have to do is play the part naturally, and work your way up."

"That shouldn't be too hard," Alfred said before closing the folder.

Peter also passed him a large manila envelope from across the table, and Alfred took it with a curious look.

"This is everything you'll need, including some other information and personality traits you'll need to perfect. I trust you'll be able to handle this, despite the early deadline?"

"Of course," Alfred said easily, his blue eyes shimmering with amusement. "I've had to pull off a lot worse."

Peter nodded, his lips turning up in his usual smile.

"You'll be happy to know that the CIA has recommended Matthew to be your 'case officer,'" he said slyly.

Alfred narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Mattie deals with information, not people. He's not a case officer."

"You're right, but for now he'll be your go-between. I think the CIA just didn't want to be left out, so they're having Mattie be your only allowed contact. He'll be informed of this when he lands on your side of the Atlantic."

"My only contact?" Alfred heard his own voice drop into a slight whine.

"Yes. This isn't your typical intelligence gathering. There's no pulling out, and there are no reinforcements. You're on your own for this, and we need to take precautions to keep you safe. Any excess contact could be lethal, but you know that."

The American agent swallowed hard, forcing the lump in his throat down. Of course he did, but without contact, he wouldn't be able to speak with Arthur. The thought made his chest tighten with disappointment.

"Any other questions?"

Alfred shook his head, indicating that he didn't have any.

"Good. You're free to go then."

"Really? That was short."

"If you understand what is required of you, then I won't keep you any longer; besides, all the necessary information in that folder. You can read, can't you?" Peter teased in good nature.

"Sure can."

"Then you're set."

The blue-eyed American shrugged his shoulders. He collected the folders, tucking them under his arm, and then rose from his uncomfortable seat.

As he headed towards the door, Peter spoke again.

"Oh, and Alfred?"

The agent glanced over his shoulder, brow cocked in query.

"I would advise you to keep most of this a secret, even from Arthur. He may know you are an asset, but I think it would be wisest to keep the cover information to yourself."

"Why? Artie would never turn on us," Alfred decreed without hesitation.

"You never know what people will do, Alfred. Just be careful and use proper discretion should you chose to go against my advice."

The American stayed a moment longer, mulling over Peter's words, and looking as if he were about to object. He left the room without a sound, however, leaving the director alone in the tiny room.

Alfred was surprised to see that Arthur was waiting for him. He was seated in the front row of the auditorium's chairs with his phone in hand, and eyes trained on its brightly lit screen.

"That was quick," The Brit observed without looking up.

"Why'd you wait?"

"Weren't we going out to lunch?" Arthur inquired with a shrug, still watching the screen even as Alfred moved to stand just before him.

Alfred leaned forward, clasping his green-eyed partner's wrist. He pushed it out of the way to kiss the Englishman's lips.

Arthur made a soft, surprised noise in the back of his throat, but quickly leaned into the kiss. He tilted his head after they parted, a bit confused at the sudden affection.

Alfred tugged Arthur's wrist.

"C'mon, let's go eat! I'm starving and…" He paused, letting loose an airy sigh.

"And what?" Arthur asked as he rose, jamming the phone into his pocket.

"And I want to talk to you about something. Let's just go," the American pleaded, tugging Arthur along by the wrist rather roughly. The Brit growled in his throat, and yanked free.

"What's gotten into you?" Arthur inquired, brows furrowed.

Alfred smiled.

"Nothing! I'm just hungry is all. C'mon!" He motioned to the auditorium's exit as if to emphasis his words.

The SIS agent sighed, following after his partner without protest this time.

Something was most definitely wrong. Arthur had seen the faint twitch on his blue-eyed lover's lips when he'd smiled. It gave away the falsehood of the gesture, which worried the Englishman. As they exited the dark room, Arthur felt a sinking feeling plunge into his very core.

**Ahhh~! Done! Suspense-ish, I guess. * shrugs***

**Anyway, remember the poll? Go vote! :D**


	18. Happy Holidays

**Risico**

**Chapter 18: Happy Holidays**

**Beta'd by Trumpet-Geek**

**Hey all, I hope to get another chapter out before Hanukkah (starts dec 20th this year. Kinda later than usual.) and Christmas, but in case I don't, Happy holidays everybody! :) :) :)**

**Reviews:**

**ilovesmilingfools: Yeah. Gil ain't playin' around. :/**

**Tealover: I'm glad you like it so far! That's just Artie, lol.**

**Bella: Originality points? :D**

**Trumpet-Geek: Lol! yay! I think that large collection of random letters was good, right? :P**

**aerrow4eva: Maybe... ;)**

**Funky Bracelet Chick: You're not annoying, dear. :)**

**blackcat: Mattie's pretty good back, y'know. ;)**

**Kay: Interesting prophecy, Kay. You've got the general idea, but I'll out wit you yet. ;) Hehehe.**

Alfred flopped ungracefully into the stiff chair with an airy sigh. Arthur mirrored him, but with much more poise. He rolled his eyes when Alfred folded his arms on the table, slouched forward and rested his chin upon his forearms.

"You're so dignified," Arthur observed sarcastically.

Alfred shrugged, offering a quirky smile as well before his blue eyes began to roam around their location. They'd chosen a small, quiet café to dine at for lunch. The place was decorated for the season with fake garland, tinsel and other gaudy Christmas decorations. Despite that, less than half of the other seats were filled, and the noise level was pleasantly low.

He was oddly silent as he observed and they waited for a server, which disturbed Arthur somewhat. The Brit drummed his fingers on the table to draw the American's attention to him.

"You're being awfully quiet."

"I am? Sorry," Alfred quickly apologized, straightening up some.

"What's bothering you?"

Alfred cocked a brow.

"What do you think?" He queried, fairly certain that Arthur already knew what it was.

"The mission," Arthur nodded, sympathizing with his lover. It hadn't been easy on either of them, but it had certainly been much more straining on Alfred.

"Yeah," he paused. "Artie, you know I'll have to go away, right?"

"Yes, I understand how the asset business works."

"I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"I don't plan on leaving London anytime soon, my love. I'll be here when you return. Besides, it's not as if you'll be trudging through the jungles of South America; you'll be here in the London area. We can still meet occasionally, and talk, can't we?"

Alfred smiled sadly at the emerald-eyed agent.

"That's just it. Peter and the CIA have denied me outside contact. I'll only be allowed to speak with Matthew regarding information."

Arthur's eyes cast down in disappointment. He felt a sad tightness constrict his heart; he would miss seeing the bright American he'd come to like so much.

"I see."

Alfred smirked sly, snaking his hand out to tip the Brit's chin up playfully.

"But I never follow the rules…"

Arthur mimicked his partner's smirk.

"I'm well aware."

"Don't worry, babe, I'll find a way to talk with you. We'll work it out," Alfred declared confidently, withdrawing his hand.

Arthur merely nodded, then glanced sidelong as he noticed a waitress approach from his peripheral vision.

Alfred lowered his voice when he saw the waitress begin to draw near as well.

"I'll talk with Mattie and sort something out. Let's not think about it too much and just enjoy lunch," The CIA agent offered with a warm smile that melted Arthur's heart into agreement.

***~.:Risico:.~***

Alfred sprawled out on the couch of their flat with an exhausted sigh.

"I can't believe they made us work on Christmas Eve!" The American complained, his words muffled by couch pillows.

Arthur snickered as he draped his coat over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He returned to the main room to find his lover on his stomach with his legs dangling over the couch's arm. Leaning over the back of the plush furniture, he stared down at Alfred's broad back.

"Stop whining. I usually work on Christmas as well."

Alfred groaned.

"You're crazy. I never show up to work on Christmas. That's when Mattie and I go drinking."

"You don't spend it with your family?" Arthur inquired.

"No, that's Christmas Eve. Christmas is for getting smashed and recovering from having to deal with my insane relatives."

"That bad, hmm?"

"You have no idea…."

"I know a bit about unstable families," Arthur insisted, leaning his arms forward to tease the fabric on his lover's back.

"You've got one too?"

"Of course. Although, mine usually insist that I should be the one being fried instead of the turkey."

"Huh?" Alfred rolled over onto his back with a quizzical look.

"My relatives don't especially like that I haven't gotten over my 'rebellious teenage years' and found a pretty little wife and had two children yet," he explained with a bitter smile.

Alfred grimaced.

"That sucks."

"Indeed."

"I guess I'm lucky. My family doesn't really mind… well, other than my cousin, but I never see him anyway, so it doesn't matter."

Arthur nodded.

"My immediate family is like that. It's just the plethora of cousins and in-laws who have problems with me."

"Well, they don't matter," Alfred declared, arching up to grab Arthur's upper arms. The Brit gasped when the blue-eyed man pulled him over the couch and onto his chest.

"Besides, I'm way better than two kids," Alfred chuckled, settling under Arthur's weight and then wrapping his arms around the Brit's waist.

The SIS agent huffed a sigh, but rested his head on the American's chest without opposition to their current fix. He was content to lie there for some time, listening to the steady heartbeat beneath him while Alfred's hand slipped underneath his shirt to stroke the lithe muscles of the Brit's back.

Arthur found himself slowly being lulled to sleep by his blue-eyed paramour, but just as his eyes slipped close he was jolted wide-awake by a loud buzzing noise and something vibrating against his hip.

"Sorry." Alfred grumbled, fishing for his phone in his pants pocket. Taking it out, he pressed the button to light up screen with an annoyed expression. The American carefully read over the new text message while the Englishman settled on his lover's chest again.

Alfred set the phone down beside them with a somber expression. He suddenly wrapped his arms tightly around The SIS agent's shoulders, squeezing him.

Arthur furrowed his brows.

"Who was that?" He inquired.

"Peter."

"What does he want?"

"He says I have to come in now. He thinks it would be best if I came for last minute preparations instead of waiting until Christmas night." Alfred mumbled into the emerald-eyed blond's ear.

Arthur felt that familiar ache in his chest flare up again. He'd become accustomed to it ever since Alfred's car accident. Why couldn't his heart just understand that Alfred was temporary, and that he'd always been temporary? Sooner or later, he'd have to get over the fact that he wouldn't be waking up to a warm body beside him each morning, wouldn't be greeted with boisterous laughter and a ridiculous pet name any longer. One day, there would be no more bright blue eyes to stare into or strong arms around his waist.

The Brit sighed.

_Damn it all. I didn't mean to fall in love._

The American clapping his back roused the shorter from his dreary thoughts. He unhitched himself from his boyfriend's chest with a defeated sigh. Alfred sat up and clasped Arthur's hands in his own.

"Hey, don't look so down. Me and Mattie-"

"Matthew and I," Arthur instinctually corrected. Alfred shrugged it off.

"We've decided that it would be okay to go against orders on this one. I'll have to use a pay phone or something, but I'll try to call you at least once a week. I know it's not a lot, but hopefully this case will be over soon."

_I hope not. You'll have to go back to the States then,_Arthur thought dismally, but didn't voice his concerns.

"I suppose it's better than nothing," the Brit said, rolling his thumbs over Alfred's callused hands. "But, before you go…"

Arthur withdrew his hands, stepped back from the American, and walked into their bedroom. He returned a moment later, something clutched in his hands.

"I was going to wait until Christmas, but seeing as how you are leaving now, I don't think it would be wise to wait," Arthur said before depositing a small box in Alfred's hands.

The blue-eyed American's cheeks colored with a thin blush.

"You got me a present? That's cute."

Arthur scoffed, brows furrowing even as he blushed.

"Just shut up and open it!"

Alfred chuckled, but obeyed, tipping the lid up and off the box. He fished out a pair of keys from the container. One was sparkling silver and the other a dazzling gold.

Arthur scuffed his feet on the carpet.

"The silver one is a key to this apartment. I know you're only in London because of this case, but, I suppose if you ever wanted to come back, then at least you'd have a place to stay," the Brit offered sheepishly, averting his eyes.

Alfred smiled warmly.

"Thanks, Artie. That means a lot to me," he said earnestly.

The Brit shrugged, trying to control the maddening blush on his face.

"What's the gold one then?" The CIA agent asked.

"I don't know how the CIA does this, but over here the SIS likes us to keep safe houses. They're strictly for us, and our families aren't supposed to know about them. They're supposed to be exactly as they sound: safe, loaded with spare ammunition, food, water, and multiple working phones and radios. I happen to keep mine in Bromley.

"With the nature of this case, and the mess it's creating, I got to thinking that you might need it as well. If something were to happen, I want you to have somewhere entirely safe to run to. The address is in the box as well."

Alfred pulled out a slip of paper resting at the bottom of the box. He read the lines of the address before slipping it into his pocket.

Arthur looked as if he was about to speak again, but the blue-eyed agent cut him off by wrapping him in a tight bear hug. He nuzzled into the crook of his lover's neck and mumbled,

"Thanks, Artie. I really love you. Y'know that, right?"

The Brit struggled to puff out his words as the American's arms crushed his ribs.

"Yes, yes, I love you too! Now let me go, you twat!"

Alfred loosened his grip, lettings his arms fall to encircle Arthur's waist instead. He stared into his partner's vivid green eyes for the longest time, simply enjoying the peaceful contact between them.

Somewhere in the apartment, one of Arthur's many digital alarms began to beep, signifying it was already midnight.

The Brit bowed his head to touch his forehead to Alfred's chest with a sigh.

"I suppose you ought to be going. Peter doesn't like to wait."

"Yeah. I guess you're right," he returned, but neither made any move to break apart.

Arthur wasn't sure just how long they stood there before he finally forced himself to pull away from his lover. Alfred reluctantly let go of his hips, and stepped back.

"Come along, I'll walk you out," the Brit said, beckoning for Alfred to follow him.

The American lingered for a moment before collecting his car keys, the two new ones Arthur had given him and all his necessary asset materials.

They didn't speak until they approached Alfred's Corvette. Arthur skimmed his fingers over the sleek surface of the hood absently.

"Arthur," the blue-eyed agent spoke quietly while he put his things into the hatch. "Please don't worry about me. There's a good reason the CIA sent me here. I'm good at what I do."

"Who said I was worried about you?" The Brit tried to defend, staring down at his faint reflection on the hood.

The taller man moved forward, grasping Arthur's shoulders to make the Brit face him. He pressed his lips to the other agent's passionately.

The emerald-eyed blond wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck and tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

Arthur felt himself being pushed back against the curved hood of the Corvette, but he didn't protest. The cold metal sent a shiver up his spine, making him gasp slightly. Alfred took the opportunity to slip his tongue over Arthur's heatedly.

By the time they broke apart for air, Arthur had already been pushed up and onto the hood, with Alfred between his legs. Both were breathing a bit heavier, their eyes hazy. Neither particularly cared if anyone saw them, though it wasn't all that likely at this hour.

"We have to do this one day, for real," Alfred said with a grin.

"Do what, git? Make-out in public?"

"No. I mean we're gonna fuck on my 'vette." He laughed breathlessly when Arthur raised a fist and punched him lightly in the chest with a sneer.

"Get going. You're going to make Peter mad if you wait any longer," he said, moving to push Alfred off of him.

Alfred nodded. Stepping back, he watched Arthur straighten out his rumpled clothing before the blue-eyed agent moved around the car. Opening the driver side door, Alfred settled into the seat, and then pressed the button to start the vehicle.

Arthur walked around to the driver side as well. He shut the door for his lover with a sad smile.

The Brit leaned against the doorframe when Alfred rolled down the window.

"Stay safe, and don't do anything stupid, love."

"I'll try," Alfred affirmed with a wink.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur patted the Corvette's hood as he started walking back to his flat.

He waved goodbye as the American revved the engine and pulled into the street. The SIS agent watched the blazing red taillights of the Corvette until they completely vanished from sight.

With a sigh, he turned and returned to his home. Walking into the bedroom made his heart hurt again. The bed already looked forlorn and empty without the bright-eyed CIA agent to share it with.

Rubbing his eyes, Arthur decided it wasn't worth the misery of brooding over missing his lover and went to sleep on the couch instead.

As he lay on the scarlet couch, his heart seemed to shudder in pain. He scowled, rolling on to his side.

_Man up, Kirkland! Quit acting like some lovesick child. You-_

Arthur didn't get the chance to complete his mental pep talk before his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, smiling when he saw Alfred's name flash across the caller ID screen.

He opened the new text message and quickly read it over.

_Alfred: Merry Christmas Artie. I love you and Ill see u again soon. :)_

The Brit shook his head slowly before setting the phone down. He curled up on the couch, content to take advantage of whatever sleep he could get.

_I'll hold you to that, git_, he thought before drifting off into oblivion.

**Happy/sad goodbye? Yeah, I couldn't make up my mind. :P**

**Hope y'all enjoyed. ;) Not sure if I'll do that corvette scene, but maybe. hehe**


	19. Misfortune

**Risico**

**Chapter 19: Misfortune**

**Beta'd by Trumpet-Geek**

**Hey everybody, sorry for the major late update! I haven't been near a computer with microsoft word on it a bit, but I found this online thing that seems to work all right. =/ Any totally weird screw ups? Blame it on the software. ;)**

**A happy Hanukkah (Chanukah, or what ever way you choose to spell it), I hope no one burned themselves on the candles (My friends and I have before. ;) )!**

**An early Merry Christmas to y'all as well! Cheers to any other holidays y'all celebrate that I don't know about! xD**

**Also, since the Vette scene seemed to have such a popular vote, I decided to draw it. It just won't fit in with the story as it's planned right now, so y'all get the visual instead. It's not quite done. Hopefully I'll have it finished before the end of the year. ;)**

**Reviews:**

**Bella: Grazie! ;)**

**Kay: Lol, I'll give you some Gil eventually! You just have to wait patiently, like in AT, for him to show up. ;) Yes, the challenge is issued, dear! Consider it brought. :P**

**denise134: You'll have to wait and see it. It all depends...**

**ilovesmilingfools: haha, thanks!**

**Trumpet-Geek: I love those phonetic sound effects. I had a fun time trying make that 'unf' sound xD**

**gsketchyl: I loved those movies! :D**

**aerrow4eva: xD Phone sex is definitely something Al would try to convince Artie to do. For sure. ;p**

**Whistlingmockingbird: Perhaps, but you know you like it. ;)**

**Funky Bracelet Chick: Awww, he is, isn't he?**

**Alright, alright! I'll shut it now and just let you guys read. ;)**

Alfred huffed a tired sigh as he waited under the dim lights of the airport's pick-up area. The once blue-eyed blond had been impatiently lingering about the long, open corridor for over an hour. He ran his fingers through his dyed hair. Where it had once been an earthy-gold, it was now a rich, sable brown. He'd also replaced his glasses with a set of colored contacts that made his eyes appear a honey-hazel hue.

A soft yawn escaped him as he leaned his shoulder against a support column. He hadn't slept at all last night after leaving Arthur's flat; he had been too jittery and upset to lie down at all. Even now, his stomach was painfully knotted and his muscles tense.

_What am I so worried about? I've done this before!_

He shivered as a cold blast of wind suddenly swept through the long alcove, rustling the discarded airport pamphlets littering the ground and dragging Alfred away from his thoughts. The agent pulled the collar of his coat higher up to keep the cold off of his bare neck. A few other people around him did the same, huddling into their coats as they rushed to their vehicles.

"Shit! It's so cold..." He grumbled into his collar to no one in particular.

He desperately wished to be back at Arthur's flat, snuggled up with the Brit under the covers to keep toasty warm. His toes curled in his shoes at the prospect of a warm bed and an even warmer bedmate. Alfred felt his chest constrict as he realized he already missed his partner.

_Damn, you'd think I was a lovesick puppy or something! I haven't seen him in twenty-four hours and I already don't want to be on this mission, just so I can curl up with him. Maybe some late night Christmas loving would have been nice too,_he thought, smiling devilishly while a puff of white vapor escaped into the night air from between his teeth.

All around him people and cars bustled about, completely ignoring him. They were all in a hurry to be somewhere; where, Alfred wasn't sure, nor did he care. He was more interested in either thinking of Arthur or hopefully finding the man he was supposed to be meeting.

_The faster I get this over with, the sooner I get to go home to Artie. But, I wonder what this guy's like? There wasn't much about this Berwald fellow in the information packet Peter gave me._

"You wa'tin' f'r some'ne?" A deep, muffled voice asked from directly behind Alfred.

The CIA agent made a startled noise and whirled around to face the voice's owner with a surprised expression on his visage.

The man was taller than Alfred, with short-cropped, blond hair and unsettling, azure eyes that made Alfred's spine quiver with unease. He wore a long, navy-blue trench coat, thick, sable gloves and a pair of heavy boots that completed his attire. He had an ominous air about him and a hard, blank expression that was completely unreadable.

_How the hell did I not notice this guy? There's no way he could have snuck up on me in those boots!_Alfred narrowed his eyes in thought, and carefully responded as he recovered from his shock.

"Maybe, maybe not," he drawled.

"Yo're James Roanoke?"

Alfred inclined his head in a nod. It was just one of his many aliases, and this one just happened to be his personal favorite. Peter had given him this one because he had thought it would be best to use a cover name and personality that Alfred was most comfortable with for this mission. It would make the disguise much more convincing and easier for the CIA agent to work with.

"I guess that means you're Berwald?"

"Ya don' spe'k 's if yo're from Detro't," the big Swede observed after grunting to confirm Alfred's suspicions. He'd already begun to notice the slight change in Gilbert's obnoxious voice each time he reported in. When Tino had been in charge it had also been present in the Fin's tone as well.

"'Cause I ain't. I'm from South Carolina," Alfred drawled in his alias' light Southern accent. "I only moved up to Detroit recently. And now I'm stuck over here on this damned cold island!" He complained.

"You'll g't 'sed to 't," Berwald mumbled, and then glanced to where he'd left his massive, blue sedan waiting across the airport's pick up alcove.

"C'me," he ordered.

Alfred followed after him with a thin smirk one his lips.

_So far, so good._

The big Swede directed the American to get in the backseat, and once again Alfred obeyed.

"Oh, hi! You must be Mr. Roanoke! I'm Tino," a much brighter, tenor voice greeted him from the front seat. A violet-eyed man, much smaller in stature than both Berwald and Alfred, turned in his seat to give a little wave as he greeted the American.

Alfred smiled, flashing his pearly white teeth.

_Fuck!_

The CIA agent stealthily avoided showing any signs of his inner panic as he returned the greeting, extending his hand out to shake. He could only hope that Tino hadn't gotten a good look at him before the accident, and therefore wouldn't recognize Alfred's facial features. In the logical workings of his mind, he knew that the different hair and eye color would throw Tino off even if he had, but still, the CIA agent couldn't be too cautious.

"Hey there, Tino. I'd really prefer it if you just called me James, if you don't mind."

Tino smiled brightly, glad that the man was obviously much more engaging than his usual company.

"Sure!"

"Tino," Berwald interrupted.

The Fin turned to his partner with a curious look on his face.

"Hmm?"

The Swede gave his partner a peculiar look, then glanced to Alfred before returning his gaze to the road. Tino nodded solemnly, opened the glove compartment, and pulled out a few things that Alfred couldn't see from the angle he was at.

Suddenly, Tino climbed over the center console, and into the backseat. Surprised, Alfred wasn't prepared for the swift punch to the gut that the Fin delivered. It knocked the breath from his lungs, and before the American could recover Tino managed to get a length of electrical cord around his throat, cutting off any chance of recovering his breath.

Alfred tried to pull the cord away, but Tino was surprisingly strong for his size and managed to maneuver the bigger of them down onto the floor of the backseat. It didn't help that Alfred couldn't breathe, and his muscles cramped painfully as he tried to fight back. The American found his arms uselessly knotted and pinned in the confined space, which also didn't help his dreary situation. Tino moved swiftly, planting his knee in the agent's back to keep the other down securely.

The CIA agent tried to thrash, but as the cord continued to constrict his throat his attempts to buck the Fin off began to falter. Black spots flooded his vision, temporarily blinding him for short bursts of time. Finally, the world simply stopped for Alfred –it all faded to black and silence.

Tino released the cord once Alfred stopped fighting and patted the man's broad back.

"Sorry, but we know exactly who you are, Alfred F. Jones. Gilbert's informant within the CIA tipped us off to your little plans," the Fin spoke smugly, knowing the American couldn't hear him, before reaching over the console to grab the length of cord he'd pulled from the glove compartment earlier. He tied Alfred's arms behind his back at the wrists and elbows, and then at his ankles. He gave them an experimental tug to ensure they were secure before smiling at Berwald.

"Yao w'll b' ple's'd," Berwald commented, glancing back at his companion through the rear view mirror.

"He's impossible to please," Tino grumbled in return, sitting down in the cushioned seats. He kept one foot firmly planted on the unconscious American's back, just in case he woke up and tried to struggle. "But maybe this will at least make him stop glaring at me every time I see him!"

The blue-eyed Swede merely grunted, effectively finishing the conversation, much to Tino's disappointment, and they drove on in silence.

***~.:Risico:.~***

"I'm worried about him, Matthew."

"That's my job, Arthur. Just calm down. I'm sure Al is fine!" Matthew's static voice answered from the Brit's phone.

"I'm not so sure. I have this dreadful feeling that something is going to go wrong," Arthur insisted, twirling a lock of hair around his finger nervously. However, he sincerely hoped he was wrong.

Matthew didn't want to admit it, but his stomach had been in knots all day, and his mind severely distracted. He drew in a deep breath, both for his sake and Arthur's before responding to the frantic Brit.

"Let's give it some time before we start worrying. He's been on the job for less than a day. Al couldn't possibly have blown his cover already!" The elder American laughed nervously. "Right?"

Arthur nodded, despite knowing that the man across the Atlantic Ocean couldn't possibly see him through the phone.

"I suppose you're right. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so childish. It's just..."

"I understand. Trust me, I worry about him constantly." Matthew assured.

There was a long silence between them afterwards until Matthew decided to speak again.

"Why don't you go get some sleep, Arthur? I know it's late over there."

The Brit hadn't been watching the time at all, and when he finally did check after Matthew's observance, it was nearly one in the morning. Arthur swallowed hard, fighting off the distasteful urge gag on his rising anxiety as it flooded his senses. He wasn't entirely sure he could sleep even if he wanted to.

"Right. I think I will. I'm sorry to have bothered you, Matthew," he said, merely to appease the elder American brother.

"Don't worry about it. Good night."

"Night," Arthur responded before ending the call tossing his phone on to the couch.

Instead of following the CIA agent's useful advice, he took up pacing across his living room as he tried to quell his jittery nerves. Alfred simply had to safe, right? There was no way something could have gone astray already!

_Calm down, Kirkland! You're turning into a right mess over nothing!_

He stopped abruptly, forcing himself to draw in a deep breath to relax.

_Matthew had the right idea. I need to sleep, and just let this whole thing go_, he decided adamantly.

By force of habit he headed for his bedroom and lay down on the familiar mattress. When his head hit the pillow, he felt his heart ache miserably in his chest.

He inhaled deeply; the American's clean, earthy scent still lingered on the pillow, flooding the emerald-eyed man's senses. Arthur closed his eyes, regretting coming in here while he was still under the stress of coping without the man he'd fallen in love with.

He pulled the blankets under his chin, still worrying if Alfred was safe. What if his asset persona wasn't convincing enough? Would they kill him? Would he be sent back to Matthew like the Detroit agents had been? Arthur shuddered at the thought, biting his lip until the sharp, iron tang of blood poisoned the taste in his mouth.

_Stop! You're a fucking SIS agent! You will not let some stupid, brash, obnoxious, wild, handsome, sweet, Yankee reduce you to this!_

"Oh, fuck it! You'd better be safe, American!" He whispered harshly into the pillow before pitching it off the bed with a huff. He leaned over, pressed the alarm button on his digital clock, and then buried himself in the thick covers. Shivering, Arthur fell into a light, restless sleep, wishing he still had Alfred's warm body to press against on the most miserable Christmas of his life.

**You didn't think I'd make it easy on Alfie, did you? Hahah. NO. ;) Sorry it's so awfully short! Just a connecting chapter! :P**

**Props to those who recognized Al's fake name. Roanoke was the first English colony in America. The people mysteriously vanished, and no proven account of them has ever been found to this day. Jamestown was the first (semi) successful English settlement. James Roanoke. Go American History!**


	20. Vertigo

**Risico **

**Chapter 20: Vertigo**

**Hope everyone had fun on the holidays! :) Now I wish you all a Happy New Year! XD**

**Reviews:**

**Bella: Yeah, don't underestimate the Finn. ;)**

**Lindt: Yep, I did. But there's a little flaw to that. When people sign anonymous, or don't sign in, I can't reply. That and I could never keep track of so many messages. XD Thanks anyway! **

**TG: xD Thanks, I thought it would an interesting name choice. Haha! Much love for little Tino! ^^**

**Aerrow4eva: Nope! Where's the fun in that? :P**

**Blackcat: I'm not honestly sure. I've seen it in a few spy flicks (I fairly certain Bond had one too), plus it's a good idea, so I just decided to use it! ^^;**

**Wo: Gil doesn't play games. ;)**

**Gsketchyl: He's got a 'bromance' with Artie, but maybe…still thinking about it. **

**Kay: Maybe~ ;) Hey I like Gil as much as the next fangirl, too, y'know. ;) And yes, isn't Tino adorable? XD**

**Ilovesmilingfools: Haha! We'll see. ;)**

***~.:Risico:.~***

Alfred groggily awoke to find himself in a sitting position, and feeling incredibly sore. His skull pounded with a terrible headache, accompanied by a fiery pain in his eyes. His back felt stiff, and his hips protested the uncomfortable settlement of his weight. However, trying to move proved useless, since he quickly deduced that his hands and back were bound tightly to the hard chair he was sitting on. Some sort of cloth or wrapping was over his eyes as well, and everything was black.

Something warm began to pat Alfred's cheek incessantly. A slick, male voice accompanied it. The blinder was pulled off his head rather roughly, but he squeezed his eyes shut; even the dim light of the wide room was too much for the American's sensitive sight.

"Hey! Wake up!"

The American groaned, refusing to open his eyes.

"Artie?" Alfred wondered aloud.

"Nope." The voice chimed, ruffling the CIA agent's hair gruffly. Slowly, Alfred opened his eyes, despite the irritating stinging from the contacts and light.

His muddled vision caught sight of a shock of bright, blond hair. His dry lips formed his lover's name again as he spoke.

"Artie…. Artie, what happened?"

"Damn, Tino, how long did you choke this guy for?"

"Not that long!" A vaguely familiar voice said. It made Alfred shiver as his memory slowly returned to him. He'd walked into a trap, and could recall that the voice had something to do with it. The hazy recollection groggily began to focus and sharpen, clarifying the situation for Alfred. He'd been choked unconscious by the owner of the softer, tenor voice.

That same patting on his cheek, only this time it was a bit rougher, followed a huffed sigh.

"C'mon kid, focus. I don't have time for this."

Alfred tried to obey, but the burning itch in his eyes made it painful. He hissed, gritting his teeth from the sharp stinging.

His head whipped to the side as a hand smacked roughly across his cheek. He found his throbbing headache flaring up again.

"That ought to do it." The voice said before chuckling.

Alfred groaned, finally managing to clear his vision. He blinked a few times before a scowl appeared on his lips.

The man standing in front of him was most definitely _not_ Arthur, he realized. He was too tall, and wore a cocky smirk, rather than Arthur's usual bad tempered frown.

"Bastard…" Alfred grumbled under his breath, his cheek a flame from the harsh slap. He had no idea who the man was, but that didn't comfort him in the slightest.

"Well, that's not very nice!" The man retorted with a snort, his sky-blue eyes narrowing in disdain.

"Where am I?" Alfred demanded, ignoring the man's whine.

"Somewhere, but that's not important." The man said, jabbing his index finger beneath Alfred's chin, forcing the American to look up at his captor. He leaned close, whispering maliciously. "What is, though, is that you're currently our hostage."

"Hostage?"

"Yep. Congratulations, agent Jones, you just made the biggest mistake of your life by trying to wiggle into our organization."

Alfred snarled, trying to wrench away from the arrogant man. His captor grabbed the blue-eyed agent's face rather roughly, forcing him to keep still. The man laughed.

"Don't bother."

"Fuck off!" The American spit back in defiance.

The man released his vice on Alfred for a split second before curling his fingers, and delivering a hammering punch to the agent's cheek. The blue-eyed American gasped in pain, neck aching from the violent jerk, and entire side of his face throbbing in immense agony.

Alfred's captor chuckled, watching the American spit blood from between his teeth as he coughed.

Alfred's vision blurred again, and he felt as if he was tumbling down a dizzying spiral, the room seeming to spin violently. What might have once been a manageable headache was now a splitting force that nearly blinded Alfred, as well.

"This is kinda fun." The tall man glanced back to inform his Finnish companion as he shook out his hand.

"Don't get carried away, Mathais. Yao wants him alive and attentive."

"I still don't understand why. Can't we just put a bullet in his head and ship him back to the States? That's what Gil did, after all."

"And Yao was pissed! He wants this one alive for questioning. I won't let you screw this up for me!" Tino growled angrily.

Mathais scoffed.

"Whatever."

"Mathais…." Tino's voice darkened in warning.

"Fine! Play kiss up to Yao and keep your little prize alive. I don't care!" The taller retorted, storming out of the room, grumbling about never being allowed any fun.

Alfred spit another mouthful of blood before looking to Tino through bleary sapphire eyes. He was indefinitely grateful for Mathais' departure, and it must have shown on his visage, because Tino piped up.

"Sorry about that. Mathais can be reckless and violent at times, but he's gone now. He'll probably go bitch to Norge about it, but-" The violet-eyed man paused, then laughed nervously. "Right. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Confused, Alfred merely shook his head to mean 'no'. He instantly regretted it though, as his neck protested the movement with a shock of pain.

Tino loosed a disheartened sigh.

"It doesn't matter." He approached Alfred, leaning forward to cup the back of the agent's neck. "I apologize: this is going to hurt later."

The Finn pressed his thumb and index finger into the soft flesh of the American's neck forcibly. Alfred gasped as his body was wracked by a spasm of intense pain before his eyes rolled back into skull, and he fell unconscious.

***~.:Risico:.~***

Arthur growled irritably as he shuffled through various papers. Most of them were finished, and only needed to be filed, but Arthur was having a poor time with it. His mind was far away from the mess of scattered parchment across his desk, and far more preoccupied with concern for his American paramour.

His stomach twisted with a chilling nausea, and left a bitter taste in the SIS agent's mouth. But there was nothing he could do now, and Arthur tried to convince himself of that annoying fact. He was failing miserably as he stacked the papers neatly before pushing them to the far side of his desk. He folded his arms over the polished surface, and rested his chin on his forearm. Arthur stared out the darkened window while a melancholy sigh escaped him.

"Be safe, Alfred…." He muttered into the sleeve of his coat. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his sense screamed that something was terribly wrong, but Arthur pushed down his paranoid thoughts in denial. Alfred had to be okay; there was no way the seemingly arrogant, invincible American could be in danger.

_He's good at what he does. The CIA never would have sent him if they didn't have faith in his abilities. He's fine, and you're worrying over nothing, as usual._

***~.:Risico:.~***

The next time Alfred stirred, he was welcomed into the waking world by an overwhelming sense of nausea that made his gut spasm. He coughed and gagged on the acidic, burning taste in his mouth for a few minutes until he finally regained control of his tumultuous stomach.

A dizzying vertigo accompanied his misery, leaving Alfred to wonder if it was just his muddled vision, or was the room actually slanted on its side and wobbling?

With a low moan, he groggily tried to quell the sickening sensation by squeezing his tired, burning eyes shut. He simply waited, and tried not to focus on the uncomfortable feeling. After the initial illusion of twisting movement around him had worn off, Alfred dared to open his eyes again.

He discovered the room really was slanted, but only due to his perspective. He was lying on his stomach in the center of the dark room he'd been in earlier. The chair, binds, and blinder were gone along with the two blonds from earlier.

With great care for his unstable senses, Alfred slowly picked himself off the floor, and sat back on his haunches. He rubbed at his sore eyes, and winced in pain. He carefully removed the irritating contacts, relieved to be rid of the dry lenses. While his vision blurred to its natural, unfocused state, it didn't bother the CIA agent nearly as much as the itching pain from before.

Alfred tried to observe his surroundings, noting the tall shape of stacked crates, a door, and a window set a few feet above standing eye-level. Most of it was merely vague, fuzzy shapes, so he couldn't tell much about any of those things. Tilting his head back, he noticed a small red light marring the otherwise featureless gray ceiling. He might have cared enough to wonder what it was had a shivering shock of pain not shot down his spine and made him yelp in agony.

The CIA agent decided it would be best if he didn't try to move his neck anymore than he had to, and waited for the pain to pass.

Gingerly, he got to his feet, wobbling a little, but otherwise fine. He moved to stand just beneath the window ledge, and reached his hand up. Stretching up as high as he could, his fingertips scraped the bottom of the dusty sill. He made the mistake of jumping to grab the sill and collapsed back to ground as another wave of dizziness overcame him.

_That was stupid…_

Alfred waited for the vertigo to pass, and his eyes refocused on a stilled world. He stood up again, using the wall for support. Once he was steady on his feet, the blue-eyed agent backed up a few paces to observe the high window. An idea formed in his bleary mind, and he crouched a bit, bracing himself. He charged towards the wall, using his momentum to give him an extra boost as scrabbled up the rough surface a few extra feet.

He braced his forearms over the ledge, trying to pull himself up as the world tilted and whirled madly around him. He panted hard, mouth as dry as cotton, and his head pounding furiously. The CIA agent summoned up all the strength that he could to haul the lower half of his body up onto the sill, and grinned weakly in triumph.

The blue-eyed man pressed his forehead to the cool glass of the window, fighting back the urge to vomit. His hot breath fogged the dirty panes as he panted, then swallowing down the bile rising in his throat.

His shaking hands began to work at the jammed lock on the window with clumsy movements. Even if he felt like Hell, he had to focus on getting out of there. He had to get back to the SIS, and more importantly, to Arthur.

***~.:Risico:.~***

"He's p'rs'tant." Berwald observed as he watched the grainy video filter in to the monitor. Alfred was still working on the window lock, much to the Swede's surprise. He hadn't expected the American to be cogent enough to mange that impressive leap in the first place.

"He's stupid." Mathais retorted, rummaging through his bag on his lap. His gloved hands skimmed past spare ammunition, knives, paper clips, a water bottle and a variety of other things.

"Damn! Where is it?" He grumbled, shuffling through the objects with frustration furrowing his brows.

"Bett'r hurry."

"Shut up!" The Dane ordered, but then laughed triumphantly as he finally found exactly what he'd been searching for.

Berwald said nothing as Mathais uncapped the sealed syringe filled with opaque, white propofol. The Dane rose from his seat beside the Swede, collecting his revolver from the bag as well.

"I'll be right back." He informed the taller before jogging out of the video monitoring room. The Swede merely set his leering gave back to the video feed from the warehouse store room, and pushed his glasses back to their rightful place on the bridge of his nose.

***~.:Risico:.~***

Alfred had nearly worked the lock-lever free when he heard the disheartening click of a revolver's drum spinning to chamber a round.

"I'll give you two options, Jones. Either you come down from there on your own, or I shoot you down."

Alfred glanced over his shoulder, meeting the Dane's bright-blue eyes before swallowing the lump in his throat.

"What's it gonna be?" Mathais queried slyly, waving the revolver menacingly.

_Play it safe. You'll have another chance._ Alfred told himself as he carefully slipped down from the sill. He dropped to all fours, to avoid spraining his ankles, and tired not to show how enervated he felt. He drew up to full height as the Dane approached him, the revolver level with Alfred's heart.

He considered trying to disarm Mathias for a moment, but then thought better of it. The lightheaded agent had no chance of overpowering someone of Mathias's size with his clumsy, wobbly movements.

_If I wasn't so damn dizzy…_ Alfred thought grudgingly as his vision blurred even more, and the room started to wobble beneath his unsteady feet again.

Once he was within arms length of the agent, the Dane grabbed him with a lightning-fast movement. Alfred was too stunned to fight back as Mathias plunged the syringe into Alfred's neck, emptying the entire dosage into the agent's veins.

Alfred clawed at the Dane's chest weakly, trying shove him away, but found that his efforts were in vain. His already woozy muscles failed completely, causing him to collapse to the floor. He hit the ground with a loud thud, but didn't feel it. His entire body had gone numb, and the American fell unconscious once more.

Mathias stepped back with a smirk.

"Well, Yao _was_ coming to talk to you when he got back, but now I guess you'll just have to wait. You're just making this harder on yourself, y'know?" The Dane shook his head before turning to leave. Just before exiting through the heavy steel door, he looked up at the camera mounted on the ceiling beams. He stuck his tongue out playfully, knowing full well that Berwald was watching, and then shut the door behind him. It locked with a loud click, leaving Alfred in darkness again.

**Okay, some people might be confused, so let me explain:**

**The points Tino pressed on Al's neck are called the Vagus nerves. They control a lot of functions that translate balance and organ function in the body. Pressing on them hard for a few seconds can cause extreme discomfort, dizziness and nausea. Pressing them long enough for someone to pass out (5 - 10 seconds) will leave the person with about 24 hours of extreme vertigo, a terrible headache, and a seriously upset stomach. Y'all might know that nerve pinch as the Vulcan pinch (yeah, that crazy hit on the neck at Spock does. ;) ) and yes, i did just reference Star Trek!**

**Propofol is a powerful sedative that numbs the body. It's used as anesthesia, and it's also what Micheal Jackson supposedly over dosed on. It can be lethal is administered in the wrong dosage. :P **


	21. Voices

**Risico **

**Chapter 21: Voices**

**Hello readers! Been awhile, huh? I do apologize for that! Exams and all sure have been a pain in the ass this year! But it's over and done with, and now I can hopefully get back to my usually (and much faster) updating! I just hope you guys haven't forgotten about this story! XD**

**Reviews:**

**Hi: Poor Al, indeed! :P**

**Ilovesmilingfools: He does, oh yes, he very much enjoys his job. Heh. ;P**

**Funky Bracelet Chick: xD It actually is pretty funny to imagine. LOL**

**Trumpet-Geek: Alfred is always sexy, dear. No exceptions. ;)**

**Bella: Ah, what a Romeo! ;P **

**Kay: Yes, lil Tino is something of that sort. General bad assery all around. I'm so proud of you! I'm really shocked you haven't started asking for Roddy yet, actually. Teehee.**

**Blackcat: Lol, the Nordics need more time in the awesome spotlight. ;P Grazie!**

**No Pain No Gain: Oh my! Thank you! ^^ Well at least you don't have to wait long, huh, dear? Hehe, don't die! I'd rather be pressured than you die! LOL.**

***~.:Risico:.~***

"Is h' even al've? I c'n h'rdly se' him br'athin'."

"Oh, he's alive! I didn't even hit him!" Mathias' eerily familiar voice reverberated around Alfred's hazy mind as he slowly came to consciousness.

The first voice grunted a dismissal of the subject.

Alfred drearily opened his eyes to see the blurred figures of four people standing in front of him. He felt the sharp sting of tight binds on his wrists again when he tried to move, and groaned.

"_Zǎǎao ān_, Jones." Another voice greeted, leaning closer to Alfred. Looking up, the agent could make out most of the man's features if he squinted. He had a slender, feminine face, large golden-brown eyes and dark chestnut hair tied in a ponytail. While his figure wasn't imposing, there was nothing comforting about the predatory smirk on his lips and the glint in his eyes.

"Huh?" Alfred groaned. His mind was too muddled to decipher the change in language. The golden-eyed man chuckled.

"I said, 'good morning, Jones.'" He retorted, tilting Alfred's chin up. He dug his nails into the soft flesh of the agent's face, clicking his tongue in satisfaction when Alfred winced.

The blue-eyed agent snarled. The pain wasn't unbearable, but the way the smaller man looked down at him made Alfred's blood boil; it was like a malicious cat looking down on a bird with broken wings.

He averted his eyes, refusing to feel so helpless. His eyes alighted on the three other figures in the room. There was Mathias, grinning dangerously; behind him stood Berwald, aloof and sight fixed in a leer; and Tino, who watched Alfred from beside his tall Swedish companion with some sort of sympathy.

"You're terribly rude." Yao commented, still smirking, and bringing Alfred's attention back to him. "I was trying to be polite."

Alfred resisted the urge to snap back and kept his vulgar retort to himself as the man released his jaw. He could feel where Yao's nails had left deep red crescent marks in his skin.

"Don't worry, because you're going to make it up to me. I have a proposal that you simply cannot refuse."

"And just why would I agree to do anything for you?" Alfred asked, carefully lowering his tone.

"Well, most importantly, you don't have a choice. If you don't agree and obey like a good little boy, then I'll kill you." He said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Then you might as well get it over with. I won't be used by scum like you."

"Oh, is that so? Why do you say that? You don't know me, and you have no idea what I have planned."

"Wrong. I know who you are. You're Wang Yao, and I know I'm not going to like any plans you have for me." Alfred returned, still keeping his voice even. "I'm not afraid of your empty threat, or dying for that matter."

Yao laughed bitterly.

"I know you're lying. Everyone fears death in some manner, it's just a matter of how to invoke that fear. Besides, you don't have to like it, agent Jones, you just have to obey."

"I told you. I refuse."

"Hmm, very well. Then you're lover and brother are going to have to pay for your insolence." Yao said airily, gesturing towards Mathias. The Dane pulled the revolver from its holster with a wicked grin.

Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Right. Like I haven't heard that hollow threat before. You don't scare me."

Yao twirled his finger through a lock of his dark hair absently.

"Your brother, Matthew Williams-Jones', plane is set to arrive back in London at 12:15pm on December 30th, terminal four on a Delta flight from Newark. A black Honda rental car will be waiting for him when he arrives. Wouldn't it be unfortunate if that rental car happened to wired with explosives?"

Alfred instantly felt the hot blood chill in his veins. His heart rate soared, thundering painfully in his chest. There was no way Yao could have known any of that information. The CIA guarded all of their travel information extensively during missions. Then again, Yao had known Alfred would be trying to infiltrate their ranks as well. Maybe he'd gotten Matthew's flight details from the same source as before.

"Or maybe a certain SIS agent, Arthur Kirkland, could meet a tragic end with a bullet through his skull while walking to the Archway Post Office to collect his mail?"

Yao groomed his fingers through his ponytail. He only glanced up to ensure that he had Alfred's attention, and was delighted by thin shimmer of fear that darkened the agent's blue eyes. "But, who knows!" He shrugged. "I'm full of surprises."

The CIA agent grit his teeth. His heart shuddered at the thought of either Arthur or Matthew meeting their deaths because of him. Yao carried on, propelling the fearful momentum even further.

"It's a shame isn't it? The two people you care about most at stake, and I can take them both way with one simple command." He glanced at Mathias, who was absently spinning the revolver's drum. The Dane met Yao's eyes for a moment, before turning on his heel to leave.

Berwald cocked a brow, waiting to see Alfred's response. Tino didn't look very pleased with the situation. He stood close to the big Swede, watching Alfred and Yao through narrowed violet eyes.

Just before the grinning Dane opened the door to the room, Alfred found his voice, and called:

"Wait!"

While he detested the loathsome, victorious grin on Yao's lips, Alfred couldn't just let the violent Dane run off to hurt Arthur and Matthew.

"Are you ready to reconsider, Mr. Jones?"

Alfred swallowed hard. He felt torn, confused and angry. He could possibly be betraying the CIA if he agreed to whatever Yao had planned, but if he didn't, Arthur and Matthew could get hurt or even killed. He felt an ugly, revolting guilt curl up in the pit of his stomach. He'd have to take the lesser of the two moral evils.

_This is my own fault. I shouldn't have gotten caught. But it's too late now. I just have to make the best of this, and keep Yao from hurting Artie or my brother. _He decided firmly, forcing the resolve on his racing heart. He had to calm down and think through this carefully.

"What exactly do you want, Yao?"

"Why don't I untie you, and we can talk about this liked civilized people, hmm?" The smaller redirected.

"Fine." Alfred said, waiting impatiently as Mathias pulled out a switchblade from his pocket, and sawed through the binds.

The Dane leaned over his shoulder, smirking as he murmured:

"Don't try anything stupid, Jones, or I'll stick this knife in your spine." He said, tapping the nape of Alfred's neck with the switchblade for the assured validity of his threat.

The American scoffed, shifting as the ropes fell away from his middle. He rubbed his sore wrists where the binds had been too tight and had left angry scarlet marks on his skin.

Yao pulled up a chair in front of Alfred. When he sat down he crossed one leg over the other, leaned back and clasped his hands in his lap. The blue-eyed agent felt uncomfortable under Yao's smug stare, and his posture was like rubbing salt in the wound. He was powerless, completely at Yao's mercy, and the golden-eyed man knew it.

"Don't interrupt me. Save whatever questions or moral standing issues you have for when I'm finished. Understand?"

Alfred nodded slowly, and settled in to listening as Yao began to unveil his plans for the unfortunate CIA agent.

***~.:Risico:.~***

**5 Weeks later…**

***~.:Risico:.~***

"I simply cannot take this, Matthew! Five weeks and two days, and still not a single phone call to anyone! Something is very wrong, and I know you know it!" Arthur shouted frantically as he paced the main room of his flat. Matthew, who was currently sitting on the couch, watching him, threw up his hands in exasperation. The Brit had been in an aggressive panic for nearly an hour now, and showed no signs of calming down anytime soon.

"Arthur, calm down! I'm just as upset as you are!" The elder American tried to assure.

"No! Clearly you are not or you'd be doing something about this!" The Brit rounded on Matthew, his voice high in fury.

Matthew's eyes narrowed.

"Don't go there, Kirkland. You know very well I'm doing everything I can."

Arthur lowered his gaze to glare at the indigo-eyed man, looking as if he were about to lash out again. However, when he met those strangely colored eyes, he knew he had overstepped his boundaries. He felt guilt tighten his chest with shame at the realization.

Arthur loosed a weary sigh as he quelled his budding anger.

"I apologize, Matthew. That was out of line."

"It was, but it's understandable. I probably would have snapped too." Matthew assured, rubbing at his tired eyes.

"I miss him…" The Brit admitted, finally halting his stressful pacing as his leg muscles began to twitch in protest at their frantic workout. He ungracefully flopped down on the couch beside Matthew.

The elder CIA agent patted the shorter's shoulder with sympathy.

"I do too, Arthur."

"What could have possibly happened? You don't think he's dead, do you?" Arthur asked, his voice rising an octave.

Matthew shook his head.

"No. I'd know if Al was dead."

"How?"

"I don't really know, but I would. Al and I have always been really close. I used to get this weird feeling when something bad would happen to him. I've always known when Al's been in trouble."

"Some sort of brotherly connection? Has it always been right?"

"I guess, yeah. Just don't worry about it. My brother's alive. He _has_ to be." Matthew declared, watching Arthur from his peripheral vision. The Brit was nervously clenching his jaw, and his hands trembled slightly. Matthew knew it must have been hard on Arthur. The Brit didn't have the instinctual reassurance that Matthew did when it came to matters regarding his wild brother.

"What could have happened?" Arthur muttered rhetorically again, slowly shaking his head.

"Maybe he's being monitored? In previous missions, he's missed check-ins to keep his cover secure." Matthew suggested, hoping to calm the emerald-eyed man's fears.

"Or maybe he's being tortured." Arthur retorted, eyes downcast. He just couldn't shake the feeling that Alfred was in danger. His stomach felt weak, and his thoughts were moving dizzily with rabid, horrible scenarios. He didn't particularly care that his comment hadn't exactly pleased Matthew; the elder American needed to understand that trying to coddle the Brit wasn't helping. He needed solid information, not sympathetic guesses.

Keeping his temper under control, the indigo-eyed agent rose from the couch, stiffly informing Arthur that he was going to make coffee to help clear their tired minds, since they clearly needed it. Neither had slept more than a few hours each night under the constant stress of Alfred's unapparent situation. Both the SIS and the CIA were pressing them for constant updates in the matter of contacting the missing blue-eyed agent as well. Arthur welcomed the idea of caffeine, despite not having a taste for coffee, and the guilty relief of being alone for a few minutes.

The Brit put his head in his hands, rubbing the heels of his palms over his bleary eyes.

_Please, Alfred, wherever the Hell you are, find away to let me know you're all right. I'm going insane worrying about you, you fucking git!_

He stayed like that until Matthew reentered the main room with two full mugs in tow. Arthur looked up and accepted the hot cup from him along with a few packets of sugar and cream. He tore open the packets and dumped them all in, swirling the coffee until it was pale beige.

Matthew took a sip of his black coffee before setting it down and sighing.

"Al drinks his coffee like that. Full of sugar and cream until it doesn't even taste like coffee anymore."

Arthur blinked, staring down into the opaque drink somberly. Of course he'd known that, since every morning Alfred had been bed ridden from his injuries, Arthur had made his coffee. He'd even taken a few sips of it when his usual morning tea needed a little extra to fully jumpstart him in the morning. It was the only way he drank coffee now: the same way his American paramour did.

The SIS agent set the steaming mug down on the table in front of the couch without a word.

"Sorry." Matthew apologized, taking another sip from his mug.

"Don't be. I-" He was cut off as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Arthur grumbled, fishing for it. It was buried in the inner folds and he had to stand up to finally grab it. He didn't bother to look at the caller id, barely having enough time to answer the call before it went to voicemail.

"Hello?" He answered.

_"Artie? Oh, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice again."_

The Brit felt his knees give out, and he sank to the floor, cradling the phone against his ear.

"Oh God, Alfred. You're alive. You're alive." Arthur murmured the mantra again and again, trying to work it all through his mind.

Matthew knelt beside him, worried for Arthur, but excited to hear his brother's name on the emerald-eyed man's lips.

"_Yeah, I'm alive, Artie. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, but we have a lot to talk about. Is my bro with you?"_

"Yes. He's here." Arthur answered in a trembling daze.

"_Great… Hey, Artie?"_

"What, you insufferable twit?" The shorter murmured with an affection only Alfred could understand in his tone. He felt his eyes sting and moisten just listening to the blue-eyed agent's strong tenor voice again.

_"I missed you."_

"I missed you as well."

_"I love you."_

Arthur sighed, and suddenly pushed the phone into Matthew's hands with a sharp, shaky scoff.

"Here. Talk to your git of a brother before I have to murder him for making me cry." Arthur explained, wiping away the hot, wet tears that had begun to trickle down his pale cheeks. Alfred was alive. And that was all Arthur's worried heart needed to know for now to finally settle down.

***~.:Risico:.~***

**Gah! The emotions! D,:**

**No fun stuff to explain. Hope you liked! ^^**


	22. Reunion

**Risico**

**Chapter 22: Reunion**

**Not much to say, other then thanks for reading everybody! :) Y'all are so great!**

**I'll jump straight to reviews on this one:**

**gsketchyl: Awww, thank you, dear! I'm glad you've liked it! ^^**

**yodelayheehoo: I'm a cliffie teaser, I'm sorry! :P**

**Kay: Hehe. No guesses? Does that mean I win? ;)**

**RealityDreamSii: sdhdgfhk To you, too! xD You'll have to wait and see~!**

**blackcat: Poor Al isn't out of anything just yet. ;)**

**Bella: That's generally how I am. :P**

**FantasiaCalacs: Nothing wrong with stupid grins. ;P**

**Eva Hazuki: N'awwww, thanks! *blushes* :D**

**On to the show, my lovelies!**

*****~.:Risico:.~*****

"Al?"

"Hey, Mattie…" Alfred's voice sounded sad, or at least nowhere near as boisterous and cocky as Matthew remembered it to usually be.

"I could say a lot of things right now, but I guess it's only fair to let you explain yourself."

"I'll try, don't worry. What happened to Artie?" Again, that same sadness, only now laced with affectionate concern.

"Oh, you made him cry, and he's not happy about it." Matthew retorted, trying to lighten the despondent mood that had come over them. He glanced over at the Brit, who was now glaring at him. He had dried the few stray tears from his eyes with his sleeve, and growled under his breath.

"You weren't supposed to tell him that!"

Matthew shrugged, returning his attention to his brother on the other end of the line.

"Shit…" Alfred groaned. "Tell him I'm sorry."

Matthew looked back to Arthur.

"He says he's sorry."

Arthur rolled his eyes, and motioned to the phone.

"Just put him on speaker phone so you don't have to keep relaying for him."

Matthew obeyed, pressing the button and cradling the phone in his palm.

"Al, you're on speaker."

"Good, saves me from having to explain this twice." Alfred said with a tired sigh. He didn't sound anything like his usual self. It worried both Matthew and Arthur.

"So explain." Arthur prodded gently, leaning closer to the phone.

"I don't really know how to say all of this and have it make sense. I don't have a lot of time either."

"Try." The elder American encouraged. "Start from the beginning when you went to the airport on Christmas."

"Okay. Yao's gang knew I was coming. I was choked unconscious-"

"How?" Matthew demanded, voice low.

"What? Getting choked or Yao knowing?"

Matthew scoffed.

"Yao knowing."

"Oh. I don't really know, Mattie. They've got to have someone on the inside with access to our mission files, or something like that. They told me they did, or I think they did. I was unconscious a lot, and drugged, so I might have imagined that part. I think they might have someone in the SIS, too." He said somberly.

"Al, do you realize how huge this is? Both agencies are compromised if you're right!"

"I know." Alfred said simply.

"How can you be so calm?" Arthur growled.

"I've had a long time to think about it…"

"Alfred-"

"I'm sorry, guys. I have to go now. Artie, can you do me a favor?"

"What is it?" The Brit asked, staring down despondently at the phone in Matthew's palm. But before Alfred could answer, the phone beeped and the line went dead.

***~.:Risico:.~***

Alfred quickly jammed his phone back into his pocket as the sound of boot heels striking the ground drew near. While he felt a burning guilt assault his already tumultuous stomach for hanging up on his brother and his lover, Alfred couldn't risk getting caught. The CIA agent felt his heart speed up, thundering loudly in his chest, as the sound grew nearer and nearer. Trying to appear unruffled, he smoothed his hair out of his face, and leaned casually on the wall beside him. Alfred cast his blue gaze to the floor, looking as nonchalant as possible.

_Stay calm._ He ordered himself.

A few moments later, Berwald's massive shadow loomed over him, and Tino's much slighter one appeared as well. The American looked up with a bored expression.

"Can I help you?" Alfred asked with a cocky note in his voice.

Berwald grunted, his expression as stony and cold as it always was. Tino, however, was much more animated than his Swedish companion.

"Kiku said to grab any extra hands to help us finish our last job for a little while. He sort of alluded that we needed to keep a closer eye on you, so you're coming with us and being useful." The Finn said in good nature.

Alfred narrowed his eyes, and unhitched himself from the wall.

"Last job?"

"That's what he said. Apparently were getting ready for something bigger and need to consolidate the work." The agent didn't like the sound of that. It made him think back to Yao's forced deal. It made his stomach churn with worry, but he kept up his façade, and pressed on.

"How long will this take?"

"Maybe a day or so. It's a big shipment."

"And if I refuse?"

Tino smiled brightly.

"You don't want to do that." He said sweetly. His tone made Alfred shiver. Despite the Finn's cheerful attitude and small stature, the CIA agent feared him almost as much as the unstable Mathias. The bright-eyed Finn seemed to have an adept mastery of the workings of the human body, and Alfred honestly wasn't sure if he could land a strong enough hit to knock the smaller unconscious before the Finn could paralyze him with pressure point strikes. Not to mention Berwald was standing right there. The big Swede was more than Alfred wanted to risk even on a good day. But today was certainly not the time to argue with them.

"Alright." Alfred backed down, dropping the arrogance from his tone.

"Great!" Tino chimed, motioning for Alfred to follow them.

"We're leaving in ten minutes. You don't need to bring anything, so c'mon!"

"What's the job?" Alfred asked, not budging from his spot.

"You'll see."

"That's hardly an answer."

"You don't really need to know, Mr. Jones, so stop asking questions." Tino warned, still using his sweet, tenor voice with all its natural mirth.

"Fine." Alfred dismissed. "I'll be out there in a minute."

The Finn nodded before grabbing Berwald's wrist and tugging him away. The Swede threw the blue-eyed agent a final glare before following after his smaller companion.

Once Alfred was sure they were gone, he sank to the floor with a weary sigh. That had been nerve-wracking, to say the least. Leaning his back against the wall, Alfred pulled his phone out again. He didn't dare risk calling again: for fear that someone might be listening in. Yao always seemed to know what Alfred was doing, and often sent Tino and Berwald to check on him. He just hoped they hadn't heard any of his conversation. It was probably a stupid move, Alfred rationalized, but he couldn't stand to be apart from Arthur and Matthew for so long. He was so used to having Matthew's calm, calculated advice during his missions that it made him jittery without it. Then there was that smoldering fire within him that burned for Arthur. He desperately missed the Brit. He hadn't left Arthur's side for over two months, and then he was suddenly pulled away from it all without so much as word in between for weeks. It made his heart ache with longing. So many days waking up cold and alone had begun to wear on the young CIA agent.

He started a new text message, deciding that he couldn't wait any longer. He had to see Arthur again. Yao and his cronies watching be damned.

_Alfred: Meet me at ur safe house in 2 days. Come at night. _

_Arthur: Very well._

Alfred smiled. He was indefinitely grateful that Arthur had the sense not to question him.

_Thanks, Artie._ He thought, affectionately smiling down at his phone, before stuffing it back in his pocket. He rose to his feet, replacing his smile with an aloof expression, and made his way to the garage.

_I'll see you soon._

***~.:Risico:.~***

**2 days later…**

***~.:Risico:.~***

Arthur unlocked the front door to the safe house with trembling hands. The tumblers in the lock jangled noisily from disuse, but ultimately the door swung open when the Brit pushed on it.

He stepped inside, not bothering to lock it behind him. Making his way into the main room, he looked around, emerald eyes desperately seeking out equally as intense blues. It was too dark to make out much in the dusty house, but he couldn't see even the vaguest outline of a human figure. The only thing there was the couch, a lamp, an old TV set, and Arthur himself. The SIS agent sighed dejectedly. In all likelihood, Arthur realized he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up so high when he realized Alfred might not even show up.

He clutched at the arm of the old couch as he felt a pang of terrible hurt shock his heart.

_Damn it, Alfred. How do you do this to me? I'm a right mess because of you, sodding American g-_

A strong, desperately missed pair of arms suddenly wrapped around Arthur's middle, interrupting his angry thoughts. He felt his breath hitch, and his heart flutter.

"Miss me?" Alfred's breath tickled the Brit's neck with a soft heat. The emerald-eyed man shivered as a small smile painted his lips, and he felt his eyes begin to moisten.

"You haven't a clue, my love." He responded shakily, and felt Alfred pull him a bit closer; their bodies were flush against one another. The American's blissful warmth seeped against Arthur's back, soothing his entirely tensed body. He leaned back, letting Alfred support his weight as the CIA agent kissed the exposed skin of his neck tenderly.

Alfred nudged his lover onto the couch, looming over him as the Brit rolled on to his back to look up at the CIA agent. He smiled, brushing away the half-formed tears in his eyes, and noting that Alfred looked as if he were about to cry as well.

"You look like a mess." He commented wryly, beckoning for Alfred to come lie down on the couch with him.

"Look who's talkin'." Alfred retorted with a soft laugh. He clambered onto the couch with his English paramour, straddling Arthur's hips. He leaned down, hot breath tickling the emerald-eyed agent's lips as he exhaled. He dipped down to seal their lips together in a chaste kiss that warmed Arthur's heart. Their eyes fluttered shut, and Arthur lopped his fingers into the fallow-gold tangles of his lover's hair. He pulled Alfred closer, deepening the kiss until his lungs burned desperately for air.

Alfred was the one that pulled away, panting softly as he stared into Arthur's gleaming green eyes.

"I missed _that_. I missed _you_. I missed it all. I never thought I'd miss someone as much as I missed you, Artie." The American rambled, frantically trying to pour his unbridled emotions into his words. Arthur silenced him with another kiss.

"Shut it, would you?" The Brit teased, leaning up to nip Alfred's ear lobe. The taller chuckled softly, nuzzling into the crook of Arthur's neck as lied down on his chest. He was careful to settle his weight evenly, and allowed the Brit to adjust to his bulk.

While the couch wasn't long enough, and Alfred had to curl up on his lover's chest, neither seemed the least bit discontent. Alfred let all his worries drift away as he shut his eyes, and inhaled Arthur's familiar scent. He had always smelled like breakfast tea, soup, and the faintest hint of his mild cologne, and now was no different, but to Alfred it was all the more intoxicating after so long without the scent filling his senses everyday.

Arthur combed his fingers through the blue-eyed agent's hair soothingly as the quiet minutes ticked by. How long they lied there, neither was sure. It could have been minutes or hours. But Arthur eventually felt himself growing sleepy with Alfred's familiar weight against him again, and man's warm breath on his neck.

"I'm so glad you came…" He whispered.

"I just had to see you again. "

"How did you get away?" Arthur asked, still stroking Alfred's hair.

"It wasn't easy, let's just stick with that."

"Alfred-"

"I'm sorry, Artie. I just don't want to talk about it. I want to be with you right now. I don't know when they next time I'll get to see you will be."

"Soon." Arthur insisted, kissing Alfred's hair. "We're going to get you out of there. Matthew's already contacted the CIA, and I spoke to Evie about it."

Alfred gasped, pushing himself up from Arthur's chest much too quickly. He suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous.

"No!" He choked out past the rising bile in his throat.

The Brit sat up, forcing Alfred to sit back on Arthur's hips.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"Artie, I can't leave the mission!"

"It's far too dangerous! The CIA can't risk losing you! Alfred, _I_ can't risk losing you…" The Brit pleaded, voice brimming with emotion.

"You don't understand, Artie. I have to see this through, or else…"

"Or else what?" Arthur asked, reaching up to stroke the American's cheek.

"You and Mattie will be in a lot of danger. I mean it, they'll kill you if I leave them."

"Let them try. I think they'll find that I am much harder to kill than they think." Arthur retorted, eyes burning with fiery determination. The CIA agent groaned.

"Artie, please, just trust me on this one. I don't want you to get hurt. Or worse…"

The Brit held his lover's gaze for an unmeasured amount of time. It seemed like an eternity before Arthur resigned, closed his eyes and lied back down. Alfred followed suit, settling himself back on Arthur's chest.

"You'd better be careful."

The American chuckled against the emerald-eyed agent's neck. He felt Arthur yawn beneath him.

"I'll try."

"Good, now shut up and let me sleep. I haven't gotten any shut eye with your disappearance wracking my already thin nerves."

"Alright." Alfred agreed, kissing Arthur's throat.

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

Alfred remained silent, drawing out a long stillness between them. Arthur sighed wearily, finding the answer plain as day in the quiet.

"Then goodbye, love." He said somberly, closing his eyes and quickly falling asleep.

Alfred shut his eyes as well, enjoying listening to his paramour's rhythmic heartbeat for as long as he could. He would have to leave soon, or else someone might notice his disappearance. But what was the harm in staying just a little longer, if only to memorize all of Arthur's familiar details once again, before he had to leave?

He smiled, tilting his head to look up at the SIS agent's peaceful visage. His azure eyes traced every beloved feature, from the curve of his jaw, to his thin lips, up to his leptorrhine nose, to the smooth, pale skin on his cheeks, and even the thick fuzz Arthur liked to call eyebrows.

Alfred carefully detached himself from Arthur, still smiling. He groomed back his ruffled hair, and looked down at the sleeping Brit.

"You're too much, Artie." He murmured under his breath. He leaned down to place one last kiss on the SIS agent's lips before backing away. He moved to the door, resting his hand on the handle for a moment. The CIA agent looked back at Arthur with a sad smile.

"Goodbye, babe. I hope I'll get to see you again soon." He whispered before leaving the safe house and locking the door behind him.

**:,D**


	23. Fate Foretold

**Risico**

**Chapter 23: Fate Foretold**

**Reviews:**

**artfan: wish granted! **

**RealityDreamsii: Lol, never! :P**

**Trumpet-Geek: Too late! LOL**

**Eva Hazuki: It's your inter masochist. :P I'm the same way.**

**Kay: Yes! *fistpump* Hehe, we'll see.**

**Bella: poor Al! :,(**

**Blackcat: Yay! I'm glad you got an account! ^^ Again, you'll see. :P**

**Birdie: Bleach is not that awesome, but thanks anyway! ^^**

Arthur was slow to rouse from his sleep. The cumulative effects of the stress, lack of sleep, and brief emotional reunion had sapped him of all his strength, but the blissful quiet of his safe house throughout the night had given him a few desperately needed hours of rest. It would take much more to recover though.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a gaping yawn escaped him before looking around. Nothing seemed out of place. The bland, white walls were still white and bland. The lamp was still in its usual place, and the cable box still displayed the time in glowing green numbers, but something still seemed wrong to Arthur.

He sighed despondently as he realized that there was no bright-eyed American anymore, and that he was entirely alone in the small house. The Brit bowed his head, trying to ward off the crashing wave of emotions that threatened to spill over in his mind. Of course he was alone, he knew Alfred wouldn't be there when he woke up. The American had said so himself. Still, it didn't snuff out Arthur's longing hope to have the blue-eyed agent back in his arms again.

_No use wallowing, Kirkland_. _He's gone._ He scolded himself half-heartedly. His weary mind ached with thoughts of Alfred just as much as his heart longed for the cocky American. It was hard to convince himself to even get up off the lumpy couch. Arthur had no desire to return to his flat, or even go into work as he usually did on most weekends. The Brit simply wanted to stay rooted to the spot, enveloped in the tiniest lingering traces of Alfred's scent on his shirt and his own dreary thoughts.

The SIS agent glanced up slowly to look at the time on the cable box resting on the dusty television set. It was nearing eleven in the morning: dreadfully late in comparison to Arthur's usual schedule. He hadn't slept so long since returning from the hospital with Alfred. And while it felt nice, Arthur would have gladly given it up if it meant he could have kept the American with him a bit longer.

The Brit forced himself to cast away his misery, and pushed off from the couch. He stumbled sleepily into the house's tiny, narrow kitchen, numbly searching for a mug. Arthur desperately needed caffeine, and something to distract himself from his thoughts of a certain CIA agent that he held close to his heart. Rummaging through the cupboards, he nearly dropped a dark-blue teacup when his phone rang, obnoxious and loud, from within his pocket. The Brit snarled as he fished it from the crumpled folds of his trousers, grumbling about how everyone's incredibly poor timing seemed to be his burden.

"What now?" He snapped as he answered the call.

"_I'll have to ask that you speak with a bit more respect, agent Kirkland."_ Evie's sly voice chimed from the other end of the line. Arthur couldn't help but groan as he used his free hand to pour water in the teakettle. Of course it had to be his boss that he snapped at in his early morning distemper.

"My apologizes, Mrs. Ashdown. I had a rough night." He explained with a sigh. Evie chose not to press the issue, thankfully, and moved on to the reason as to why she was calling Arthur in the first place.

_"We need you at the building at your earliest convenience-"_

Arthur snickered as he turned on the stove to warm the kettle. 'Earliest convenience' in Evie's world meant 'right now'.

_"Agent Kirkland-"_

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Ashdown, please continue." Arthur drawled, leaning against the kitchen counter.

_"I'll explain the details when you get here, but Director Peter and I need to speak with you about agent Jones' absence."_

"I'll be there soon." The emerald-eyed man assured in a sad murmur. The mention of Alfred's name instantly sending his mood crashing into an even darker spiral.

"_Very well. Try to be quick about it, agent Kirkland."_ She retorted before ending the call, and left Arthur alone to his thoughts again. He set his phone on the counter, watching the teakettle as the heat began to warm his braced forearms that rested on the kitchen counter. It was going to be very long day…

***~.:Risico:.~***

Alfred groaned, tossing around in the tangled mass of sheets he had wrapped around him. He ran his shaking fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends of his bangs while his thoughts strayed. Be could very clearly remember the previous night, comfortably resting on the couch with his English paramour. He longed to be lounging on the Brit's chest again, rather than stiffly tossing and turning on his uncomfortable mattress in the warehouse. He would rather be anywhere else then stuck within the cold confines of the warehouse. Alfred was locked in the cold concrete room every night, left in total darkness, save for the single speck of red light high up in the rafters. It was the same room he had first been brought to after he had been captured by Tino and Berwald.

Alfred looked up at the glowing light, wondering if any of Yao's gang were watching him right now. It seemed unlikely, since there appeared to be a huge job in progress, and whenever Mathias passed by him, he grumbled about there not being enough good help for such a massive undertaking. The American still wasn't exactly sure what the job was, since everyone he encountered refused to give him even the faintest hint, but that wasn't too surprising. No one in Yao's gang with a healthy mental state would have dared to trust the CIA agent with any information, regardless of Alfred's entrapment.

Sighing, the American rolled onto his side, gazing at the wall with the window just above the tall sill. Unfortunately, for Alfred, the window had been welded shut with a torch after his initial escape attempt. Not that Alfred would have dared to permanently leave. He couldn't risk Arthur and Matthew's lives on a foolhardy gamble like that.

The blue-eyed agent craned his neck as he heard the bolts on the heavy steel door to the room grate over the rough floor. A wave of light flooded the room from the outside hallway, leaving a tall silhouette illuminated in the doorway.

Alfred glared as Mathias entered the room, twirling a ring of keys on his finger, and smirking down at Alfred.

"Get up. We're having a meeting and you're invited."

"No thanks," Alfred growled back, dropping his head back to the stiff mattress and sheets strewn on the concrete floor. "I'm not interested."

"I wasn't giving you an option, Jones." The Dane chimed, stepping up to Alfred's side. He rested his hand on the holster of his hip that held his favorite revolver. He patted the worn, black leather in warning, but still Alfred defied him.

The Dane grinned wider, flipping open the clasp on the holster and drawing the revolver, brandishing the weapon for Alfred to see.

"This little game you try to play is really starting to annoy me, Jones." Mathias said in a sickeningly arrogant tone. The gun's gleaming metal flickered menacingly in the sharp light cast from outside the open door as Mathias spoke.

"I really don't care." Alfred retorted.

The Dane narrowed his eyes.

"Get up." He ordered again, pointing the gun at his victim's head.

The CIA resigned with a defeated sigh, bracing on his hands to rise from the tangle of sheets. As he drew up to full height, the violent Dane cocked the revolver, and lunged at the blue-eyed agent.

He barely registered Mathias' swift motion in time to raise his arm up to keep Mathias from bashing his temple with the heavy revolver. It struck his forearm with enough force to break the skin, and left Alfred with a pulsing numbness spreading into the limb.

He stepped back to dodge another wild swing, nimbly avoiding becoming entangled in the sheets on the floor. Mathias was not so lucky though, and stumbled as his booted feet tripped over the blankets. Alfred took advantage of the opening, swinging his leg up to deliver a high kick to Mathias' hand, and knocking the revolver from his grasp.

A quick, intense blast of fire exploded from the barrel as the hammer dropped, sending a bullet shooting into the air. Alfred heard the shot ricochet off the wall and strike one of the many crates in the room. Shards of metal and splinters blasted into the air to his left, stunning both blonds with a deafening noise.

Mathias recovered quickly, shaking out his bruised hand and swinging his good one in a fist at Alfred. The CIA agent grunted in pain as the Dane's fist struck his jaw, and stumbled to the side. Roused from his earlier daze, Alfred managed to block another punch, ducking under Mathias wild attacks to aim a quick jab at his unprotected stomach. The Dane exhaled sharply, tensing his muscles to minimize the blow, and rounding on the American. He brought his knee up, striking Alfred's chin and stunning him. Another rough punch to the temple knocked Alfred to the ground with a loud thud.

Mathias pounced, slamming the blue-eyed American's back into the concrete floor. He easily pinned the dazed agent, wrapping his hands around Alfred's throat and squeezing. Alfred tucked his chin to his chest, trying to keep Mathias from cutting off his oxygen supply. His hand shot up, striking precisely and pushing hard against the underside of the Dane's jaw. Mathias found it impossible to keep his grip on the American's throat while he was being forced up, and promptly released him to roll off of Alfred's chest. He sprang to his feet, about to reengage when a deafening blast shattered the air.

The CIA agent sat up, gawking at the figure standing in the open door to the room. Mathias merely snarled.

"What the Hell are you doing here, Kiku?" He questioned, dark-blue eyes burning with fiery fury.

Kiku, loosely holding his still smoking .50 caliber 500 revolver glared at Mathias apathetically. He stepped forward, keeping the weapon brandished obviously.

"Mathias," he said, voice perfectly even. "I think it would be best if you joined Yao and the others in the meeting room. Now."

The Dane scoffed, before sending a deathly glare back at Alfred and collecting his revolver. He stuffed it into the holster, and stormed out of the room, boot heels clicking loudly against the hard concrete surface.

Alfred watched in awe, until Kiku's steady voice shook him from his daze.

"I heard a shot. Are you injured?"

"No," said Alfred. "I'm fine. The only thing hurt is my pride…and my face." He said, rubbing the tender, bruised flesh of his cheek.

"I aporogize, Mathias is very stressed latery. He's become more viorent it seems."

Alfred shrugged, before slowly getting to his feet once again. He tottered for a moment, but quickly regained his balance. He met Kiku's dim, brown eyes for a moment, but the Japanese man smoothly disengaged, turning away from the American.

"Come arong, then." He said, motioning for Alfred to follow him.

The CIA agent's lip twitched, as if he were about to protest, but thought better of it, and allowed the shorter to lead him. He didn't need to start another fight, especially after noting that Kiku had holstered his gun, but left it exposed on his belt for Alfred to see. Alfred had no desire to be shot with the near literal hand cannon for disobedience.

The brown-eyed man and his American prisoner didn't have to walk far before they came upon the steel door to Yao's office. Kiku opened the door for Alfred, ushering him inside.

Upon entering, most of the people present craned their necks to see just who had arrived. Alfred recognized most of then: Berwald and Tino, sitting side by side, Mathias, looking extremely annoyed, Norge standing in the corner and Yao, who sat at his desk. There were others he didn't recognize, as well: A man with silvery hair, and crystal blue eyes that wore Norge's aloof expression and stood beside him. There was also a tall, broad shouldered man with blond hair slicked back and sky-blue eyes. Also, a short, dark-haired man stood beside Yao's desk, looking giddy with shimmering, dark eyes.

"So glad you could join us, Mr. Jones." Yao chimed, toying with frayed ends of his ponytail. He twirled the dark chestnut locks around his fingers before reaching over and pressing a button on the phone set on the far corner of the desk.

"Now that everyone is here, you may begin, Gilbert."

"What's going on?" Alfred narrowed his eyes, voice laced with suspicion.

"You remember our deal, Jones? It's time we put it in motion." Yao responded smoothly.

"Already?" Alfred looked shocked with his eyes wide."But, there's no-"

_"Hey! Whoever is talking, shut up! I'm trying to explain my awesome plan!"_ An obnoxious voice hollered at Alfred from the phone's speakers. The American cocked a brow in confusion, but didn't speak again. He was horrified and curious at the same time, making his stomach toss uncomfortably.

"Continue, Gilbert." Yao prompted.

_"I think I will. Now then, my informant in the CIA has told me that the SIS and CIA are planning something. Apparently, they're growing frustrated with the awesome me, and of course you guys over there. I think it's about time we struck back, and showed them that they picked the wrong people to mess with! That, and if we want to stay ahead, we're going to need some fresh information- information that can only be obtained by the highest officials in the SIS."_ Gilbert chuckled obnoxiously, continuing once he had composed himself again.

_"Since the big-wigs in the SIS aren't just going to hand it to us, we're going to take it from them. We're going to infiltrate the SIS building and steal that information. No one's going to get in our way either, at least, not with Mr. Jones sneaking us in…"_

Gilbert broke into another fit of laughter, but Alfred couldn't find anything funny about the situation. His heart dropped into his stomach, and he felt sick. He didn't register the noise around his Gilbert continued to explain the full details of the plan, but stared on in a haze. This wasn't going to end well. He just knew it...

**D:**


	24. Cracks and Divisions

**Risico**

**Chapter 24: Cracks and Divisions**

**Hey look guys, last lame-o connecting chapter! It's smooth, destructive sailing from here on out! Hehe. There are only about 7 or 8 projected chapters left, guys! I'm going to try to have this done by mid March. So sad! I hate ending things! Buuuuut…. Fret not, for there is plenty more in the works from Hellie productions! ;) The next upcoming story will be an American Civil War fanfiction called _Shatter_. I'll have further fun details for y'all in later chapters of Risico, but watch out for it. ;) It should prove to be angsty and heart wrenching. Teehee.**

**Reviews:**

**Trumpet-Geek: Lol, should I? XD I'll admit, he's pretty BA. :P**

**Artfan: Just about, yeah. ;) You're oh so welcome! Hehe**

**Bella: xD Yes, he is very, err, Asian. LOL! I do have fun writing him, almost as much fun as writing Berwald!**

**RealityDreamsii: Because good to bad is fun, and awesome and evil go hand in hand. :P I'm a terrible person, I know. Hehe**

**Eva Hazuki: Oh yes, Gil is a heart breaker both as a smexy-lookin' villain and as an evil mastermind. **

**TeB360: I'm glad you found it too! ^^ Haha, hopefully you'll see this soon!**

**HetaliaRose: You'll have to wait and see. ;) I'll grant one of your wishes, but I'm not telling which one. :P But thank you! Oh yeah, that vid _WAS_ linked in my profile…until FF took it down. *Grumbles***

***~.:Risico:.~***

"I don't know what you want me to do about it, Director! I haven't a clue where he might be!" Arthur explained again for what seemed like the hundredth time. It wasn't necessarily a lie. Arthur really didn't know where Alfred was specifically. He knew Yao had him trapped, but the Brit couldn't tell Peter that. Arthur refused go back on his implied promise to his American paramour. Alfred had asked for his trust, and he would have it, Peter's irritating interrogation be damned!

"Are you sure, Kirkland? He hasn't contacted you or Matthew at all?" Peter insisted, drumming his fingers on the polished mirror surface of the long table.

_Now _he had to lie.

"No," Arthur said flawlessly, still annoyed with the questioning. "He hasn't."

Peter sighed, and leaned back in his chair. He wore a disapproving looks as he stared down his agent.

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to." Arthur snarled in return, moving to rise from his seat. "Your distrust for me isn't my problem at this point. I haven't contacted him, and he hasn't contacted me. You can't blame him, since you told him not to talk to me during the mission."

"I know that, but please, Arthur, if there's something you're not telling me it could jeopardize the whole mission! Do you know how bad it looks when an intelligence agency has no information?" The Director pleaded, rising as well. He couldn't let his agent walk away. Arthur knew something, and Peter was going pry it from him one way or another.

"Drop it, Peter. I don't know anything." The emerald-eyed man said, his voice laced with warning that dripped like venom. He wasn't in any kind of mood to start an argument with his superior. And why couldn't Peter just leave him alone and stop bringing Alfred up? The SIS agent was already torn apart inside with longing, and every time he heard the American's name his heart shuddered in pain.

"Give me something to work with, Arthur! The CIA is very upset about losing their top shot, and prized asset. It looks bad on us if we can't give them even the vaguest answer. This is a right mess that's been created. Surely you can see that! I simply cannot tell the CIA that Alfred has vanished without a trace!"

Arthur clenched his fists, rounding on Peter with a ferocious leer directed to his superior.

"I told you, it's not my problem! Alfred could be dead for all we know, and you're more worried about our image!" He roared, fury adding a tearing bite to his harsh words. Peter blinked in surprise, unaccustomed to Arthur's sudden outburst. Arthur had a reputation of being somewhat anti-social, and irritable, but never outright and loudly hostile like this.

"Arthur, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, b-"

"I'm not upset!" Arthur defended, trying to recompose himself. He hadn't meant to snap like that, and instantly regretted it. He combed his messy hair back with a shaking hand, and shook his head.

_Way to fix the situation, Kirkland. Scream at your superior! That's certainly not immature…_

"My apologizes, Peter." He said with a carefully controlled voice. "I shouldn't have shouted."

"It's fine, Arthur. I understand; the stress is getting to you, isn't it?"

"I suppose so. I must confess, I've had a particularly dreadful feeling about this mission from the start." The emerald-eyed man admitted. "It's been wearing on me."

_So did Alfred. I shouldn't have let him run off again. Damned git! You never should have gone in alone…_

Peter nodded in sympathy.

"Why don't you go home, Arthur? It's technically your day off, and I'm sorry about calling you in."

"I'll think about it. I don't exactly feel like going home right now." He said, stepping back, and turning to leave.

_If I go home, what will I do? Brood over that bloody American? That doesn't help. I might as well stay here, and do something productive._ He reasoned logically. Maybe it was better to push Alfred from his mind, at least for a little while. Besides, there was always plenty of paperwork to do. And if he didn't do it now, he'd have to do it later anyway.

"That wasn't advice, Arthur. Go home. I'll personally be checking the building for you in twenty minutes. If I catch you here, well… Just don't let me see you here until Monday. Do we understand each other?" Peter demanded, more than asked, pointedly. His voice was lowered in warning, which Arthur quickly picked up on.

"Very well." He said, not bothering to linger any longer in the large meeting room. He exited, heading for the elevator, and growling under his breath.

"I understand you, Peter, but I'm not so sure you understand me…"

***~.:Risico:.~***

**3 days later…**

***~.:Risico:.~***

Alfred paced restlessly beside his makeshift bed. His normally clear, blue eyes were dark and wild with agitation. His whole body was rigidly tense; the muscles in his legs ached in pain, and his fists were clenched until his knuckles were as white as bleached bone. A shooting pain laced through the thick, knotted muscles in his shoulders as well, leaving Alfred wincing with every jerky movement. His mind was even more disturbed than his body. Whirling emotions and half-formed thoughts raced through his head, writhing about, and giving the CIA agent a stressful headache in the process.

It had been days since the meeting with Yao's gang to introduce the plan to attack the SIS building. Alfred had been in a ferocious panic ever since, tirelessly trying to work out a possible solution in his mind. It wasn't working, but he had to do something other then pace like a caged animal, or he felt as if he would go insane!

He stopped abruptly, pulled his phone out of his pocket and began dialing Arthur's familiar number. His thumb hovered over the button to initiate the call for a long time. Alfred was keenly aware of how badly he was shaking at the phone trembled in his hands, wobbling precariously on his sweaty palm. He loosed a shaky sigh before stuffing his phone back in his pocket. No. He couldn't risk it. Yao might find out about the call if he tried to warn Arthur. He would rather the SIS building collapse than see Arthur get hurt because of his carelessness.

_Maybe they won't notice if I just text Mattie…_

The American ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the split, golden strands in nervousness. Was it worth the risk? Matthew meant just as much to Alfred as Arthur did…

The American groaned.

This was going to be absolutely disastrous. Alfred couldn't help but dread the upcoming attack on the SIS building. He ran through the plan over and over again in his mind, but couldn't think of any way he'd be able to trick Yao out of going through with it. They had been concocting this scheme for a long time, it seemed. Yao and Gilbert had been devising various methods to approach the attack, and had come up with a simple, but effective ploy. It unnerved the blue-eyed agent that his usually keen mind couldn't worm through the various phase to put an end to it. Though it relied on various simultaneous components, it would probably work, especially with Yao dangling Arthur and Matthew's life before Alfred in a malicious taunt.

His breath hitched, and he went to reach for his phone again, panic making his heart rate soar dangerously.

The thick steel deadbolt that locked his warehouse room suddenly thundered, making Alfred flinch with a startled yelp. He winced as his phone hit the concrete floor with sharp clacking noise, but nudged it under the bed sheets quickly as the door grated open.

Yao's small frame shadowed the entrance as he stepped in, flanked by Tino and Berwald on either side. While Yao wore a confident smirk, Tino's eyes burned with fury, but he hid it behind a happy smile. Berwald looked the same as ever, stiff and stoic, but his eyes kept darting to the Finn beside him.

"_Nin hao_, Jones."

"What do you want now?" Alfred demanded, trying to cover up his panic with a careless tone. He desperately hoped Yao wouldn't notice his slight trembling or the CIA agent knew his façade would crumble.

"Cut to the chase, hmm? Fine. Your phone," said Yao, eyes glinting. "Hand it over."

The American narrowed his eyes, a sneer painting his lips.

_Maybe I should have warned Artie when I had the chance?_

"Why? You didn't mind that I had it before." Alfred responded carefully, trying to keep his worry in check.

"Because, I can't have you running off again and blathering my plans to your boyfriend or brother. I may have excused your first little escapade, but now things have changed."

"You knew?" Alfred queried smoothly, but inside he was a panicky mess. How could Yao have known? He'd been so careful about sneaking out, and hadn't encountered anyone. He'd crept around the cameras, avoided any noisy doors and was back within a few hours in the dead of night.

The Chinese man scoffed arrogantly, eyes glimmering.

"Of course I knew! You didn't think I'd let you keep your phone for nothing, did you? I wanted to see where you'd run to, and just how effective my bargaining chips are. Considering you came back, I think I still have the upper hand here. Wouldn't you agree?"

The American swallowed hard. He hated to admit it, but Yao was right. He was still very much pinned. There wasn't a thing he could do, short of killing Yao's and the higher members of his gang, to wiggle out of his cage.

He stayed silent, voicelessly recognizing defeat. The golden-eyed man seem to revel in the pleasure of having Alfred so fixatedly trapped as he dragged on the tense silence. When he finally spoke, he offered Alfred a simple explanation,

"Most phones these days have GPS trackers installed in them. It's simply a matter of pinpointing a signal. Not hard to do, especially with the resources at my disposal." Yao shrugged his slim shoulders.

"If you can track me so easily, then why do you want my phone?" Alfred asked again.

"Because, I won't risk anything or _anyone_ messing up my plans." For some reason, he glared sidelong at Tino bitterly. The Finn kept smiling, as if oblivious to the cruel stare directed at him. Yao's eyes flicked back to Alfred, and he extended his hand, expecting the American to give in to his demand.

_There's nothing I can do…_ He resigned with a huff, knelt down beside the mattress and pulled the phone out from its makeshift hiding place. The screen had a small crack in it now, and a piece of the plastic backing had chipped away from the earlier fall.

He pitched it at the man behind him, half hoping it would hit an unsuspecting Yao. That didn't happen, as the golden-eyed man caught it easily, tucking it into the pocket of his dark dress pants.

He turned on his heel, giving a little wave as he left. He didn't bother to look behind him to make sure the fuming Finn and his Swedish companion followed along.

Tino left with a sympathetic:

"Goodbye, Mr. Jones." But Alfred could plainly hear the raw anger in the normally cheerful Finn's voice as he stormed out. Berwald said nothing, but follow closely behind Tino. Alfred only glimpsed the tall Swede resting his hand comfortingly on the smaller's shoulder before the door slid shut, leaving him alone to his troubles yet again.

***~.:Risico:.~***

"_Jumalauta_! He drives me crazy, Berwald!" Tino growled as he slammed the door to his room shut rather forcefully. It shook on its hinges, making the wall vibrate.

The big Swede sat down on the violet-eyed man's bed, crossed a one leg over the other, and patted the space beside him silently.

"S't." He rumbled. Tino's lip twitched, as if he might protest, but found he couldn't disappoint Berwald, and did as he was commanded. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Tino clenched his fists and growled.

"You see how he treats me, Berwald! I screw up one time-"

"It w's m're than once, T'no." The blue-eyed man said lowly, but patted the smaller's shoulder for comfort.

"Okay," Tino admitted reluctantly. "More than once, but still! Gilbert messes up all the time and does stupid stuff, but Yao never treats him any differently!"

"Tr'e, b't he expc'ts bett'r fr'm ya."

"Better? What else can I do? He took me off the Detroit operation, and sends me on these silly runs that any new recruit could do!"

"He h's ya gu'rdin' J'nes."

"Babysitting." Tino countered, but when Berwald glanced at him sidelong, he huffed a sigh. The Finn flopped down on to his stomach ungracefully, and sighed into one of the many pillows piled on the bed. Berwald had to at least have _some_ sympathy for him, right?

"I want things to go back to the way they were, Berwald. I want it to be you and me as a team again, actually doing something important. I mean, how long have we been working for Yao? You'd figure he'd trust us to do our jobs by now!"

The Swede exhaled sharply, and leaned closer to the Finn. He rested his heavy hand between the violet-eyed man's shoulder blades to rub soothing circles over the knotted muscles. Berwald knew the effect he had on Tino. The cheerful, violet-eyed man seemed so much more at ease in his presence, and the Swede did his best to stay close to his best friend, especially in such stressful times.

"Ya'll h've your ch'nce t' pr've yours'lf soon."

"If you say so." Tino said, sighing softly into the pillow. "Let's just hope this crazy plan of Gilbert's actually works." He truly hoped it did. He couldn't imagine Yao's wrath if their attack went awry, especially for himself. Tino was already on his boss' bad side as it was.

Normally, the stress from thinking about it would have riled Tino up, but Berwald's comforting presence worked to bay his agitation. He was indefinitely grateful for the warm hand pressed to his back and the soothing heat the Swede shared with him.

Berwald grunted an affirmative, then quietly watched as the disgruntled Finn slowly drifted off to sleep under the touch of his hand.

**:P**

**That's why Yao let Al keep his phone, as many of you pointed out. ;) See, logic! It applies in my fanfiction (sorta)! LOL. Stay tuned for more, and hopefully soon!**


	25. Elevators

**Risico**

**Chapter 25: Elevators**

**Hey guys, i told you I was done with lame connection chapters, and I meant it. Let the fun begin. ;)**

**Oh, and a note: I know Iceland doesn't exactly have an official name. I'm going with a suggested name: Emil. There, my Nordics are complete. **

**Reviews:**

**Trumpet-Geek: :P Soon? Yeah, like, now. haha.**

**HetaliaRose: I must, my dear, but no, sadly you may not. You'll see. :P**

**On to the show!**

***~.:Risico:.~***

Alfred stared at the towering SIS building through the darkened windshield of his Corvette. The sun had finished its sojourn across the sky, and had settled below the horizon, leaving only darkness and artificial light behind. Glowing office lights illuminated some of the building's windows, leaving an intricate pattern of brightly lit squares across the glass front of the structure. Alfred just hoped that none of the lights turned on were in Arthur's office.

He was startled from his thoughts by a sharp rapping on his window. The agent glanced sidelong to the figure outside the car, before nodding slowly.

Reaching over the center consol, he popped open the glove box, and pulled out his locked, black Walther. He unbuckled the barrel and trigger guards, placing them on the passenger seat. Alfred turned the gun over in his hand, his fingers sliding smoothly across the cold, glistening metal. A short silence was attached, something that Yao had insisted upon for the mission. The American grimaced as he examined his firearm. The once familiar, comforting weapon felt dangerous and alien in his palm.

_How did I end up on the wrong side, about to forsake everyone who's put their trust in me? _He looked up, eyes flicking from one illuminated window to the next. _ God, just don't let Arthur be in there…_

Another impatient tap on his window broke Alfred's somber concentration. He shook his head. He couldn't put this off any longer. Reaching over again, the agent grabbed the two extra fully loaded clips of ammunition, and stuffed them in his coat pockets. Alfred pulled back the slide on the gun to chamber the first round before slipping it into his belt. Finally, with a shaky exhale he exited the Corvette.

Berwald, Tino, and the silver haired man Alfred had seen at the meeting, stood around his vehicle. Alfred swallowed hard. He knew under their light, casual winter coats, a variety of weapons were concealed along with extra ammunition. Alfred, with his Walther, spare bullets and small switchblade was the least armed among them.

The silver haired man, who had identified himself earlier as Emil, fished for something in his pocket before handing it to the American.

"Use this to disable the cameras, and then get out. We'll take care of the rest. Yao doesn't want any witnesses. Kill anyone who tries to stop you." He said coldly, before turning to start walking towards the building. Tino and Berwald followed after without saying anything.

Alfred looked down at the objects in his hand. A small Bluetooth earpiece and what looked like a portable flash drive. He blinked curiously at the earpiece's incoming call light flash. He slipped it on, and pressed the button.

_"Can you hear me?"_ Emil's apathetic voice queried in his ear. Alfred looked up, seeing Emil watching him with icy blue eyes expectantly.

"Yes." The CIA agent responded after a moment. The silver-haired man turned on his heel, continuing his walk.

_"Good. Now then, let's get this over with. You remember the plan?"_

"Yeah." Alfred affirmed, and brushed his hair down over the earpiece, hiding the small device with ease.

Emil didn't say anything else, and Alfred took that as a silent command to begin. He started walking towards the SIS building with a knotting sense of dread sinking his stomach. This was it. This was the beginning of the end, he knew as he entered through the heavy doors with a bright, cheerful smile on his face.

"Hey, Scott!" He chimed, not a hint of his internal worry showing through his façade.

The familiar guard looked up from his computer at the American's exuberant greeting.

"Jones! That really you?" He asked in disbelief, blinking curiously. He hadn't seen the American in months, and honestly hadn't been expecting him back for a long time, if ever again.

"Yeah! You miss me?" Alfred smirked, leaning on the high countertop of Scott's guard desk.

The guard scoffed in good nature. He pushed his thick, dark hair from his face, looking up at Alfred curiously.

"Hardly, but what are you doing here, mate? Where have you been?"

"Isn't it obvious? I have to check in with Peter and Evie, y'know? I've been having some trouble with the mission, but don't worry about it." Alfred lied easily, letting the words roll off his tongue as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was his gift, or in this case, his curse. Alfred had always had a proverbial silver tongue that usually made him an excellent asset. It made him an easy liar, a charmer, an orator, a provoker. It had always worked well with coaxing people into his bed, but now it made the agent sick to his stomach as he completely lied to Scott.

The guard nodded, reaching for the phone on his desk.

"I'll let them know you're coming. They'll be-"

"No!" Alfred laughed, swatting Scott's hand with a smirk. "I want to surprise agent Kirkland first, and then I want to see the look on Peter's face when I waltz in his office. It'll be priceless." He winked.

Scott chuckled, shaking his head, and withdrew his hand.

"You're a cheeky bastard, aren't you, Jones? Very well, just don't blame me if Kirkland gets pissed about you dropping in uninvited." The guard waved him towards the elevator. "You even remember how to get there?"

Alfred started towards the sleek metal doors of the elevator with a little wave.

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. I'm not all old and senile like Arthur is."

"He'd likely put a bullet in your foot for a comment like that." Scott called back.

Alfred glanced back at the dark haired guard, put his index finger to his lips and sent Scott a knowing wink.

"So we just won't tell him I said that." He pressed the elevator button to bring it down to the bottom floor. "Right?"

Scott shook his head, and scoffed.

"Alright, mate. I'll let it slide."

"Thanks!" He stepped into the elevator as the doors slid back to allow him in. He felt the relief begin to flood him at finally being able to escape Scott's presence. He flinched when the guard urgently shouted for him.

"Wait, Jones!" Scott called, rising from his seat.

The agent swallowed hard, putting his sweating palms over the door slots to keep them from closing as he peeked out of the elevator.

"Yeah?"

"Your gun. I forgot to collect your gun." He said, eyeing the small bulge under Alfred's coat on his hip.

"Ahh, c'mon, Scott! Cut a guy some slack, huh? I won't be long, I promise!" He said with a dazzling smile. The guard looked skeptic for a moment, but resigned with a shrug.

"You'd better be, Yank. I'll overlook it this one time."

The American thanked him again with a cheerful laugh, before stepping back and letting the doors slide closed. He pressed the button for the tenth floor, rather than the sixth, watching it light up in a faint orange color.

With a hefty sigh, he leaned back against the cold, metal railing that lined the perimeter of the tiny room. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, but he continued to maintain his happy outward appearance.

There were still cameras in the elevator, he knew, and he couldn't afford to show any signs of distress until they were disabled.

It felt like an agonizing eternity before the elevator made a loud pinging noise, and the doors slid back on their well-oiled sills. Alfred was more than grateful to step out of the cramped, hot elevator and onto the hard, dark tile of the tenth floor. It was terrible relief to free of the silent, confined space.

The agent licked his dry lips before looking around. He had never been on this floor. It was one of the places that Arthur had adamantly insisted he didn't need to wander about. The emerald-eyed man had explained that it housed the buildings extensive camera system, and that Evie would have been furious if he had ever let the American up there. It had been one of the few times Alfred had actually obeyed, purely from the death glare the older woman had sent him when he had made the mistake of joking about it in front of her.

Alfred pushed back the memory, and focused on the task at hand, peering down the halls into the darkness. The American couldn't see movement of any sort. He didn't hear any sound either; the halls were empty. While it appeared as if most of the tenth floor employees had gone home for the evening, Alfred knew better than to trust first impressions.

He walked casually down the hall to his right, careful to appear nonchalant while his keen blue eyes scanned this floor's layout for any signs of late-night workers.

The neat rows of cubicles were empty, all the computer monitors were dark, and the lights had been dimmed to near darkness in the main room.

Alfred continued on his rounds, checking to make sure hall doors were locked and that the private offices were empty as well.

_This is too easy._ Alfred thought warily as he approached the final section of the tenth floor: the security room.

As he strode up to the closed door, he noted the harsh bluish light seeping out from beneath the structure, bathing Alfred's booted feet with an eerie glow. Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, he pulled out the Walther from his belt with one hand and twisted the doorknob with the other.

He stepped in quickly, the raised the gun to level. The two camera operators at the desks whirled around to see who was opening the door to their station so late. One let out a surprised gasp as he found himself staring down the barrel of Alfred's gun.

"Don't say a word." He commanded, stepping up to the man who had gasped. He grabbed him by the collar of his neatly pressed dress shirt, and smashed the butt end of the gun into his temple. Alfred dropped him on the ground in a limp heap.

Alfred quickly rounded on the other one; she was a young woman with her hair tied back in a ponytail. She glared up at him with a mix of fear and defiance that Alfred would have admired had he not been set on his mission.

He didn't stop to think about what he was doing as he lunged forward, and clamped his free hand over her mouth and nose, pushing her back against the desk. He was afraid to think about this. Terrified that if he let his thoughts go, he'd lose his nerve for the horrible deed he was committing.

The woman struggled, trying to pry Alfred's hand off with her finely groomed nails. The blue-eyed agent was forced to pin her arms forcefully to keep her from clawing him open. She kicked and struggled for a few more minutes until her eyes slipped closed, and she fell unconscious. When she went limp beneath him, Alfred removed his hand, watching with a sickening feeling as she slid to the floor beside her companion.

The American agent stepped back, staring down at the two guards passed out at his feet. They almost looked dead in the strange, glow cast by the various machines and monitors illuminating the dark room, their skin deathly pale. He sighed wearily. Yao didn't want any witnesses…

Alfred exited the room, turning the corner as he spotted exactly what he was looking for. He still kept up his casual façade as he walked up to the emergency fire-extinguishing toolbox mounted on the wall. He unlatched the cabinet with slightly trembling fingers, and removed the packaged fire blanket. Alfred dumped the blanket out of its red bag, picked it up, and headed back for the camera room. The American didn't bother to shut the glass door before returning glowing space where he had left the unconscious guards.

Alfred folded the blanket up until it made an extremely think, square pad, and pushed it down over the man's head.

_No witnesses…_ He recalled the order with disgust, but pushed the barrel of the gun straight down against the blanket. At least it would be painless.

"I'm sorry about this." He whispered, before pulling the trigger. He felt the Walther jerk in his hand, but the blanket muffled the sound of the shot for the most part. It still made an audible noise, but with the door shut, and the additional makeshift suppressor, he doubted anyone more than fifty feet outside the room would have heard it.

He dared not look at the man's face as he removed the fire blanket before turning to face the woman. Alfred carefully set the blanket over her head as well, lining up the barrel again. He exhaled sharply, shutting his eyes as he squeezed the trigger. Once more, the muffled sound filled his ears for a split second before everything was silent again.

Alfred simply left the blanket draped over the woman's face as he shakily rose to his feet. He could feel the bile rising in his throat, and his chest constricting with guilt as he braced his hands on the desk. He shifted his leg, listening the pooling blood slosh under his boots. His vision swam as the realization sank in; he had just murdered two perfectly innocent guards, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. They hadn't deserved to die, but Alfred didn't have a choice. It was either they, or his lover and brother, and Alfred couldn't let it come to the latter.

Alfred tried to calm himself down through a serious of deep breaths, slowly clearing his vision and quieting his furious heartbeat. It had been a necessary sacrifice the agent reasoned, trying to reassure himself. They had died so that Arthur and Matthew could live.

The American shook his head, glancing down at the two corpses at his feet, and shuddered. He had killed before, but had never outright murdered someone in cold blood. His few kills had been in self defense or trying to protect someone. It still didn't make them any easier to bear, and Alfred knew that the two at his feet would forever haunt his guilty heart.

"_Hurry it up…"_ Emil's voice crackled in his ear, startling the American. Alfred clutched at his racing heart, trying to recover from the sudden interruption of his dreary thoughts.

"Sorry." He whispered back, and fished for the flash drive in his pocket. He walked over to the far side of the desk, wary as he stepped over the slain woman's body. He squinted in the darkness, looking for a slot in the computer tower that controlled the camera system. His gloved hands roamed over the smoothed metal until he found a slot, and pushed the flash drive in.

Looking back to the monitors, a system window opened, promoting him to enter a password to access to the inserted device as a protective measure set up on the camera system. The agent grimaced. Emil hadn't said anything about a needing a password! Alfred didn't have any clue what it might be.

"Emil, it needs a password to activate!" The blue-eyed man whispered harshly, panic beginning to weave into his voice.

"_Calm down, Jones. I know that."_ Alfred sighed, hovering his hand over the number pad on the keyboard. As Emil recited a long string of numbers, Alfred typed them out, swearing when he missed a keystroke, and had to have Emil repeat the series.

"_That's it. Press enter, open the first file on the flash drive, and tell me when it activates."_ He said at last, and Alfred pressed the enter key. The machine accepted the code without any further issues.

Alfred did as instructed, selecting the first file, and leaving the cursor hovering over the option to open it. He swallowed hard, his mouth as dry as cotton, and his stomach knotted painfully. He could feel himself trembling and sweating. The perspiration beaded on his neck and forehead, and he wiped it away with back of his trembling hand.

_There's no turning back_. He decided. _I've already doomed myself_. The CIA agent glanced down at the dead guards on the floor. It really was far too late now.

He set his finger on the enter key again, closed his eyes, and pressed down. He heard the machine beside him whir, and the camera monitors flickered with static noise as the many cameras throughout the building became infected with Emil's lethal program, changing the receiving signals to jumbled noise.

Alfred stepped back, finally opening his eyes.

"It's done…." He murmured sadly, and turned to leave the room. The blue-eyed agent barely registered the sound of Emil's voice affirming as he stumbled out into the darkened tenth floor. The walk to the elevator was a haze of conflicted emotions that were like a whirlwind inside Alfred's heart. His body ached all over, every muscle painfully tense and stiff as he moved. It was a deep ache, rooted in his heart, accompanied by the nauseous guilt in his belly.

Numbly, he pressed the button to bring the elevator to his current floor, and waited with unseeing eyes. He was far too lost within himself to notice the doors slide open. He only snapped to attention when a familiar voice called his name. He looked up to see a pair of brilliant, flawless emerald eyes staring at him from within the lit inside of the elevator. His whole body went rigidly stiff, and his instincts screamed for him to run, but he found himself paralyzed by his lover's confused stare.

Arthur called his name again in disbelief, stepping forward. How was Alfred here? More importantly, why hadn't Arthur been informed his American paramour had been so near, literally just a few feet below him a moment ago? He found his heart welling up as he stared into Alfred's fearful azure eyes.

"Alfred!" And the CIA agent found the spell snapped as Arthur's hand reached out to cup his cheek. He turned, and bolted for the stairs with a jerky twist.

"Alfred!" The Brit shouted again, dashing after his lover with confusion clouding his better judgment as he ran.

***~.:Risico:.~***

**9 mm Walthers, I think at least, are fairly quiet guns. Add a suppressor, and they are extremely quiet. They make a very distinctive clacking sound this way, though it falls within safe hearing range. There is no such thing as a total silencer, so naturally there will always be at least some noise when a gun fires. Fire blankets, while poor compared to a real suppressor, can certainly lower the sharp noise of gunshot. **

**Anywho~ :P hehe.**


	26. Chapter 26

Hello to anyone who still checks these updates!

For those of you who have given me continued support with Risico, I'm really grateful, but now I have some bad news for you all (or good, maybe).

Risico is being scrapped. This story has wandered so far off the original mark and has been one of my worst writing experiences to date. However, I don't give up on my stuff, and so the story is going to be redone in accordance to my original idea. When is this going to happen? I have no clue. I'm quite busy writing my new stories, one of which is already up and running: Shatter. It's a historically accurate Civil War story following Alfred through his mental, physical and emotional trauma of the war and sense of loss as the rest of world turns their back on him.

Even better if you like history without as much angsty darkness is my beloved first fanfiction, American Trains. It's the story of cowboy!Alfred and his Western adventure with Arthur Kirkland. ;)

This sounds like a bad self-promotion, huh? Yeah, it sort of is. I just want y'all to know that Risico is _not_ my normal writing style. Risico is how I write when I am frustrated and fed up with something.

Again, thank you all for reading what you have and putting up with it. I hope y'all will return for when it is redone in its proper form to read. Until then, I hope to see you all at my other stories. ;)

~Hellie Ace.


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